Spitfire
by Orangejolius
Summary: Kyle is always uptight and ready to fight, but Kenny and Stan have some pretty interesting plans when it comes to helping him calm down. Sex can tame even the most formidable wench, it would seem.
1. Chapter 1

Kyle, Stan, and Kenny had been having sleepovers almost every Friday night for the better part of a year; ever since Kyle's parents had the basement refinished. It was pretty much an unspoken arrangement at this point, and like clockwork Stan and Kenny would show up at Kyle's door at the same time - 7 pm sharp - every week clutching backpacks and sleeping bags. Kenny would usually sneak in some booze and maybe some weed, and they'd sit around and play video games and shoot the shit; pretty standard sleepover stuff, really.

They had invited Cartman over the first few times but it quickly became established that it just wasn't going to work. The tension between he and Kyle had reached a fever pitch and they were fighting constantly; like two angry cats in a sack. It was almost like their passage into high school, their junior year specifically, unleashed so much stress and rage inside of both of them that they couldn't even pretend to be tolerant of each other anymore.

"It's clearly sexual," Stan had commented, nodding.

This was after another blow up had occurred, with Cartman slamming out of Kyle's house and Kyle retreating into a corner so he could sulk in a decidedly self-indulgent way; pissed off that he'd given Cartman another chance even though he clearly didn't deserve it.

"Oh, yeah. Absolutely," Kenny had agreed, scrolling on his phone and giving Kyle a suggestive grin that made him bristle up; ready to fight always.

"You guys are fucking demented," he snapped, crossing his arms and refusing to even look at either of them. "Especially you Stan. I mean, I would expect this bullshit from that perv," he waved his hand at Kenny dismissively. "But not from you. How can you sit there and say this has anything to do with sex when that asshole was trying to say that Kerouac was a better writer than Capote? What did Capote say about Kerouac's work being hopelessly derivative?" He thought a moment. "Oh, yeah, that it wasn't writing, it was typing. And yet you two are sitting here and trying to say this has to do with sex. It's sick."

"Hey, there's a thin line between love and hate, dude. I just haven't decided which side you and Cartman really fall on." Stan shrugged. "I don't see how you can blame us for feeling this way; this shit has been going on since before we could walk. Besides, you two could argue about the fucking phone book, let alone this pretentious Beat Generation feud you guys have going on."

Kyle was about to launch into a tirade at being considered pretentious when Kenny intervened, calm as always.

"Dude, this isn't about love or hate or any of that crap. Not really, at least," Kenny chimed in, still looking at Kyle with that sly smile. "It all comes down to the fact that those two need to fuck if we're ever going to have any peace. Plain and simple. Or, rather, Kyle needs to get laid, like yesterday."

"Well, you can fucking forget about that ever happening! At least, not with Cartman." Kyle seethed. He turned to look at Stan, his eyes wide. "Will you say something please?!"

"I'm kind of with Kenny on this one, Kyle. You are seriously wound so tight you're about to snap and fly through a window."

"You can't possibly mean that. I mean, yes, I'm really stressed, I'll admit to that. But fucking Cartman, really?" Kyle looked wounded, and the look he had on his face was different from the one he wore when he regarded Kenny. His face was steeped in betrayal when he rested his eyes on Stan.

"Has anyone ever told you what a little spitfire you are, Kyle?" Kenny asked, clearly very amused by this entire exchange.

Kyle blushed, though he couldn't have said what would possess him to do so; unless of course it was from rage which he was feeling in spades.

"A spitfire, Kenny? What the fuck? You make me sound like I should be in a romance novel or something."

"Oh, yeah. Right on the cover, with a ripped bodice and everything." He thought for a moment. "And I'm pretty sure I'd be the huge guy standing behind you with my shirt wide open and a 'fuck, yeah, I tapped this spitfire' look on my face." He started laughing.

Kyle picked up a book and threw at him, his face completely on fire now. Kenny easily dodged it, still laughing.

"Who would you be, Stan?" Kenny asked. "Maybe it would be one of those really racy stories where the damsel in distress is being drilled by two different guys. What do you think?"

Stan considered this, his hand on his chin.

"Set the scene. Have we been drinking?" He asked, after a moment.

"I'm not a damsel in distress and how the fuck did we even get on this subject in the first place?!" Kyle practically shrieked. He looked around for something else he could throw at Kenny, and at Stan too since he was taking this bullshit seriously. "Besides, you're hardly huge, Kenny. Sorry to disappoint you."

Kenny snorted.

"Right, keep telling yourself that Kyle."

Kyle was being petty, he realized, but he couldn't help it. In that moment, he never would've admitted that Kenny was pretty fucking built and had been since he started lifting at the beginning of high school. He was also constantly working on his car out in his driveway so he had a pretty persistent tan; his hair singed by the sun and turned a burnished gold. In short, he was hot as fuck, and Kyle kind of hated him for it because he'd remained almost exactly the same: thin, almost waif-like, really, and hopelessly pale. The only real change was a new smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose, but otherwise he was still the red-headed wraith he'd always been.

It annoyed him so much that he glared at Stan, who had also developed into a hottie from playing endless football games. He was a jock but he didn't let it go to his head; he had always just enjoyed being physical. Stan was kind of careless when it came to how attractive he was, in fact, he didn't even seem to be aware of it, which just served to make him even more good looking. Kyle glanced over at his tight arms and large hands, and with the way this conversation was going he could suddenly imagine those hands on his body.

"What's with that look?" Stan suddenly asked, startling him. Kyle flushed and tilted his chin up, the very picture of a romance novel spitfire even if he didn't realize it.

"None of your business, " he snapped, not caring that he sounded terribly childish. Besides, how was he supposed to explain that he sometimes felt like the mascot of the group? Cute, fussy, woebegone Kyle? It drove him crazy, because it was this image that probably made it so easy for Kenny to tease him the way he did. He felt completely clenched up over this entire exchange, especially since Cartman was the precursor for it, and it infuriated him that he didn't even have to be in the room and he still managed to fuck Kyle over.

"See, that's one of your biggest issues, dude," Kenny said. "You're completely closed off. No wonder you're so uptight all the time."

"Oh, I'm sorry if I'm not foaming at the mouth to talk about how I'm some weird romance heroine for you, Kenny."

Kenny shrugged.

"Fair enough, but can't we at least have an open dialogue about this kind of stuff?"

Kyle rolled his eyes and prayed for strength.

"About what stuff?"

"Sex," Kenny replied, simply. The word hung in the air like it actually had weight, and just the sound of it made Kyle's heart start to beat so fast it felt like it was trying to leap out of his chest. Stan didn't seem too disturbed, of course, and he sat back on his chair, his hands behind his head. He and Kenny both seemed to be waiting for Kyle to say something.

"I, uh, well," he faltered, and suddenly he didn't know what to do with his hands. In fact, he didn't know what to do with his whole body, which was suddenly buzzing like every nerve ending was on fire. "Jesus Christ, Kenny. What the fuck am I supposed to say to that?"

"Well," Kenny replied, and he rolled up his sleeves to reveal sun-darkened forearms laced with tattoos. Involuntarily, Kyle's eyes fell on them and his mouth became extra moist, the sudden wetness surprising him. He gulped. "For starters, what do you want your first time to be like?"

Nervously, Kyle glanced over at Stan to see how he responded to that question, and his heart thudded even harder when he saw that Stan was staring at him, waiting. His blue eyes were extra dark, the pupils fat and full.

Kyle laughed a little, but it was shaky.

"I can't even begin to answer a question like that, Kenny. I mean, I haven't even kissed someone so I really think we're jumping the gun here."

"Oh, is that what's got you all worked up? Well, that's an easy enough fix. Stan?" Kenny turned to look at him, an eyebrow raised.

"Yeah?" Stan asked after a moment, the question cautious. Really, you never knew what Kenny was going to suggest or do next.

"Aren't you going to help Kyle with his problem?"

Kyle gripped the arms of his chair before he almost keeled over. He couldn't even look at Stan now but he could feel the weight of his gaze on him, burning into the side of his face. How the fuck did they even get to this point?

"I would," Stan replied, softly. "But I don't know if that's what Kyle wants."

"Kyle? Is that what you want?" Kenny asked.

All of the air seemed to be sucked out of the room after Kenny asked him that question, and it was a moment before he could even catch his breath. Droplets of sweat were collecting on his forehead and on the small of his back, and he could feel them slipping down his skin. In that moment, even the sensation of having perspiration running down his flesh was somehow erotic, and every moment that Stan and Kenny waited for Kyle's answer seemed to become taut with an unspoken and unbearable tension.

Finally, when he couldn't stand it anymore, Kyle nodded. Yes, he wanted Stan to kiss him. He'd always wanted Stan to kiss him. That was a truth that he took to bed with him every night, and it was waiting for him when he woke up in the morning. He looked up and Stan was watching him, his lips parted slightly and with a flush that had risen in his cheeks. Rising from his place, Stan made his way over to Kyle and cupped his face with his hands, tilting his head back slightly.

Before he could catch a full breath Stan was kissing Kyle, and the tenderness with which he did it almost made him swoon. It felt like every moment in their history had been building up to this point, and who knew it would happen because Kenny started fucking around and teasing Kyle during a sleepover on a random Friday evening? Kyle sighed when he felt Stan's tongue slip inside his mouth, and he was glad that Stan was holding him up because he would've collapsed right there if he could.

Slowly, they broke apart and they were both gasping, like the only oxygen they'd needed had been coming from one another. They gazed into each other's eyes and for the first time Kyle could see the desire in Stan's face that he'd always needed to see, but hadn't really looked for because he was afraid he wouldn't find it. Kenny was watching with a slow, secret smile, his eyes the shade of dark denim jeans, and Kyle couldn't help but pull his focus away from Stan for a moment to linger on Kenny's exposed forearms again, and he bit his lip and succumbed to a new type of haziness.

"There," Kenny murmured. "Is that better? Did it loosen you up?"

Kyle nodded slowly, feeling drugged as his gaze still traveled over Kenny's arms, but now they were making their way up his body, where his jacket was open, and he was wearing a tight white undershirt.

"Kenny," he said, and his voice sounded like it belonged to someone else, to someone who suddenly had the ability to be a little daring. "What do you want your first time to be like?"

Kenny snorted.

"Dude, that ship has sailed. Ages ago, actually. And let me tell you, it was pretty disappointing, mainly because I had a pretty set idea and it just didn't pan out."

"Oh?" Kyle asked, and he felt almost like his bones were made of liquid as Stan took his hand and helped him rise from his seat. Stan took his place and pulled Kyle down onto his lap, his arm snaking around his waist to pull him close. It didn't take a lot of coaxing for Kyle to lay his head on Stan's shoulder, but he still peered at Kenny out of the corner of his eye.

"Yeah, it was a fantasy, actually. I guess it could still play out, but who even knows at this point?"

Stan's hand was slipping under Kyle's shirt now, and he shivered a little.

"What kind of fantasy?" Kyle asked, his voice becoming heavy.

"Well, it's a little hard to explain," Kenny's eyes drifted away from Kyle's and settled on Stan. An unspoken exchange seemed to pass between them but Kyle was so focused on Stan's hand on his bare skin that he didn't try to read into it too much. He felt Stan nod his head a little though, the gesture small.

"Is it okay if I show you what it is?" Kenny asked.

Kyle looked up at Stan though he wasn't sure why. It just felt like what he needed to do before he could answer correctly. Stan just kissed his cheek, his hand drifting down his back where his finger slid under the top of Kyle's boxers. For whatever reason, Kyle felt like he was giving him the answer he needed.

"Sure, I guess," Kyle said, but his voice was fragile.

"You're going to have to trust us, okay?" Kenny asked, and he was standing from his chair. He walked over to where Kyle was nestled on Stan's lap and he reached out a hand and placed it on Kyle's throat gently, sliding it up until he'd pushed his head back a little, exposing his lips. In a moment, Kenny was kissing Kyle's mouth deeply, and he could taste the cigarette smoke on his lips, the flavor being chased by mint and whiskey. Kyle sighed and accepted his tongue completely; Stan's hand moving further inside of his boxers.

Kenny pulled away after a moment, leaving his taste on Kyle's lips, and then he was kneeling in front of him, his hands on the button of Kyle's jeans. Kyle panicked for a moment but Stan held him close, continuing to stroke the skin low on his back until he was calm again. Kenny opened up his jeans and his warm hand settled on the front of Kyle's boxers, and his back arched at the sensation of being touched there by someone other than himself.

"God, you're adorable," Kenny murmured, and he was pulling Kyle's hard cock out of his boxers, stopping to admire it. Kyle was gasping as Kenny's work roughened hand wrapped around him, and the flush in his cheeks made him feel like he was going to burn up with fever. When Kenny's wet mouth closed around him he almost cried out from the profound beauty of the sensation, and he sagged against Stan's chest.

In the silence of the room Kyle could hear Kenny's lips and tongue stroking along his cock, and he felt so sensitive and raw that he didn't know how long he could possibly last. At one point he could feel his cock brushing the back of Kenny's throat, and he writhed against Stan who continued to hold him like he was the most breakable thing on the planet. When Stan's hand reached under his shirt and squeezed one of Kyle's nipples it was just too much, and his body was arching as the most exquisite orgasm he'd ever experienced lanced through him. It took him a moment to come back to himself, and when he did he saw that Kenny's mouth was still on him, and he seemed to be high on the taste of Kyle's come.

What happened next happened in a blur, because Kyle felt so relaxed and completely intoxicated that he didn't even have the wherewithal to fight, not that he wanted to anyway. He was led to Stan's sleeping bag and instructed to get on his hands and knees, and Kenny stroked his hair as Stan eased his jeans and boxers all the way down, exposing him completely. Almost instinctively, he raised himself into the air so Stan could have better access with his fingers as they delved inside of Kyle, and he couldn't even make a sound because the feeling was too much for him to convey through sound. All he could do was whimper and drool as Stan prepared him with slick, warm fingers.

When Kyle was gasping and pleading and already hard again, Stan was sliding into him as softly and easily as he would a warm bath, and Kenny's mouth found Kyle's lips again; and he was tasting the heady mint and whiskey and cigarette cocktail that almost undid him. His mouth salivated when he tasted his come on Kenny's lips too, and he was surprised that it actually turned him on.

"Are you okay?" Kenny asked, as Stan gripped Kyle's hips and eased into him with more care than he ever could've anticipated. His heart swelled and he nodded as Kenny licked his bottom lip, his tongue slipping inside again. Then he was pulling away and unzipping his jeans, and his huge cock was brushing Kyle's mouth. He drew back for a moment, startled, but when Kenny's fingers wound through his hair and drew him forward he didn't resist, and his lips were suddenly sliding over Kenny, and the skin was like throbbing velvet on his tongue.

Kyle almost became lost in the sensation of being in between Stan and Kenny, their heat filling him up until he thought he was going to break apart, but he managed to keep his mind from falling into oblivion and he stayed in the moment. With every thrust his body was filling up with so much fire that he could feel it in his blood, and was almost sure that he was going to dissolve before they were through, and it was like he was being cradled by the sun. A faint, tiny part of his brain still couldn't comprehend what was happening, and he could only wonder what he looked like from an outsider's perspective; and the thought of being perceived as a dirty little slut made him clench up before he realized it was happening. It was like a part of himself was being awakened in that moment and he had no fucking clue it had even existed.

Before he knew it, Kenny was exploding in his mouth and Kyle tensed up again, his muscles gripping Stan's cock. With a jagged moan, Stan was coming inside of him and now he was pretty sure he was going to burn up, and he almost didn't have the strength to hold himself up. He sunk down into Kenny's lap where he cradled Kyle's head, petting his hair and brushing his eyelids with his thumb.

"Mm, it's okay," he murmured, and he wiped some wayward come from the corner of Kyle's mouth. Kyle could only look up at Kenny, spent and gasping as he felt Stan continue to pulse inside of him.

Afterward, they all lay together with Kyle safe in the middle, Stan and Kenny's arms wrapped around him as he continued to tremble from experiencing his first time.

"See, I told you this would loosen him up," Kenny said, sleepily, and he kissed Kyle's forehead. "Little spitfire."

Kyle pulled away a little, but Stan was there to hold him and run his fingers through Kyle's sweaty hair.

"Wait, what? Did you two plan this or something?"

"Maybe," Stan said, and Kyle could almost feel him smiling against his neck.

Kyle wanted to be angry but he just couldn't. Instead, he snuggled down between them and felt immensely loved; completely wanted.

"I can't believe you guys," he pouted, but it was forced.

"Hey, I told you I had a fantasy," Kenny replied. "You're the one who wanted to know what it was."

"And did it live up to your expectation?" Kyle asked, playing at being annoyed even though he was thrilled. The thought that super hot Kenny with his tattoos and surprisingly gigantic cock had fantasized about him was immensely flattering.

Kenny nuzzled him, breathing deeply of Kyle's sex-drenched scent.

"Oh, yeah, and then some. I know you hate me saying it but you really are like a tragic heroine from a romance novel, with your dramatic red hair and your huge attitude." He drew him a little closer. "Christ, and you're so fucking little and easy to move around; I feel like I could tuck you in my pocket and carry you away." Kenny thought a moment. "You're like a fairy tale princess, and as much as I want to fuck you I want to protect you too. Is that why you love him, Stan? I always wondered."

Stan nodded against Kyle's neck.

"That's why I've always loved him, and the only reason I was willing to share him with you like this was because you get it, Kenny. You actually get it."

"Well, I'm glad I was satisfactory, at least," Kyle said, blushing; even after everything he'd just done. A feeling of intense pleasure was cloaking his chest, his heart, and he wondered how he was going to deal with all of this love. How could he ever return it the way it needed to be? "I still can't believe you two basically planned this though. I mean, how could you have even known that I would jump from having my first kiss to being-" he faltered, not sure what to call what they'd just done.

"Spit roasted ," Kenny said, easily. "Which is oddly fitting, considering."

"Yeah, that," Kyle muttered. "How could you have known I'd kiss Stan and then just be willing to do that all of a sudden?"

"We didn't," Stan said, and his voice was so relaxed that it was almost like a sedative for Kyle. "We just hoped."

"God, you guys are both perverts," Kyle said, even though this fact didn't bother him in the slightest.

"Mm, but you have to agree this is going to make our weekly sleepovers way more interesting. Don't you think?" Kenny smiled, wrapping his arm around Kyle's hips and pressing his fingers into his warm skin. All at once he was lifting Kyle onto his lap to straddle him, and with Stan's help he was being guided onto Kenny's stiff cock, and he threw his head back as he sank onto its length; its girth opening him and making him pant. He was already so sore from having Stan inside of him, but it was a delicious ache that made him drool. His head lolled on his shoulder when he had completely sunk onto Kenny, and his hands were still on Kyle's hips, holding him tightly; possessively.

Stan looped an arm around Kyle's waist and kissed his mouth as Kenny pumped into him, and the friction that built up between the three of them was so delicious that Kyle didn't think he could handle it, because it was just too much. It was all too much. He was gasping and pleading for them to stop, but really he wanted them to keep going forever, and every future Friday night stretched out before him like a delicious dream. Suddenly the idea of being Stan and Kenny's little spitfire didn't sound so bad.


	2. Chapter 2

"Honestly, Kenny. I don't understand why you can't just get a new car or whatever," Kyle said. His voice carried that nagging tone that always made Kenny roll his eyes even if he did find it a little sexy. "I mean, no matter how much you work on this thing it never runs. Why don't you just let it go already?"

Kenny sighed and rested his hands on the edge of the car, trying to maintain some semblance of patience. He was hunched under the hood of his Eclipse, trying to figure out just what the fuck was wrong with it now, and he was finding it very hard to concentrate with Kyle griping at him. In fact, he found it hard to concentrate on anything while Kyle was around; that was just the effect he seemed to have on him. Feeling thirsty and frustrated, he eased himself out from under the hood and grabbed a rag he had thrown in the grass. Wiping the grease from his hands, Kenny walked over to Kyle, who was perched on the steps in front of his house, a book laid across his lap.

Kyle looked up as he came over and frowned, and Kenny steeled himself for more good natured nagging. He continued wiping his hands on the rag and waited, admiring the way the sunlight caught the highlights in Kyle's hair and made them smolder.

"I just don't think it's fair that you never seem to get a sunburn," Kyle pouted, laying the book aside and standing up. His head barely reached Kenny's shoulder and he couldn't help but find this appealing, too. Kyle, tiny Kyle; his little spitfire.

"You seem to have a lot of complaints for me today, dude," Kenny replied, sliding his eyes down Kyle's body, not bothering to be discreet. "I mean, you hate my car and the fact that I don't burn. Is there anything else you wanted to bitch at me about?"

Kyle thought a moment, tapping a finger against his bottom lip. Kenny could suddenly imagine biting that lip while sliding inside of him, but he tried to stay focused. It seemed like ever since he'd gotten to live out one of his fantasies with Kyle he was finding it even harder to resist him. They'd had to cancel last week's Friday night sleepover because Kyle had relatives over and now Kenny was jonesing; desperate for a fix with his auburn haired smart mouth.

"Well, I'm pretty thirsty and it's kind of boring just sitting out here watching you work on your car, Kenny. You know I don't know jack shit about cars. There's really nothing for me to do."

A shaft of sunlight fell over Kyle's eyes, illuminating the pretty green threads of his irises. Kenny's mouth filled with saliva at the sight, and he could remember the way Kyle's eyes had looked when he'd pulled his cock out and rested it against his mouth, against those pretty pink lips. He shook his head, trying to get his head right.

"Look, let's go into the house and get something to drink," Kenny replied. He paused, trying to think of something for Kyle to do that wouldn't involve being bent over and fucked. "I'll grab my stereo too, okay? We can listen to music."

"Well, okay," Kyle conceded, finally smiling. "Can we go somewhere when you're done? Like the movies?"

"Sure, we'll go on a date," Kenny said, grinning. "I'll even buy you candy, how's that?"

Kyle rolled his eyes and Kenny couldn't help but feel a little twinge in his cock. There was that fucking attitude again that would've been annoying on anyone else but just seemed to suit Kyle to a goddamn T. They went into the house where it felt only mildly cooler than it did outside, the curtains closed against the relentless mid-summer sunshine. Kenny appreciated that even though Kyle was a smart ass he always had the tact to refrain from hating on his house, on the old, faded furniture and the stained carpet. The most he'd ever really said about the place was that he never understood why wood paneling was so big in the 70s because, really, it was just awful and everyone should be born knowing that.

They walked into the kitchen and Kenny winced when his shoes crunched across the linoleum, no doubt from scattered sugar crystals leftover from Karen's breakfast. She had this annoying habit of making cinnamon toast and getting fucking sugar everywhere, and of course she never swept up after herself. He glanced at Kyle to see if he'd noticed too, but was surprised to see that he'd grabbed the broom from against the wall and was silently sweeping the floor. A sudden feeling of tenderness came over Kenny to see him doing that, and he knew that it was the little things, like this, that had helped to forge his interest in Kyle long ago. Random acts of kindness and that fiery personality; not to mention that ass, of course.

"You really don't need to do that, dude," Kenny said, going to the fridge and grabbing out a beer for himself, and a diet coke for Kyle. "Karen should be the one cleaning that shit up; she does this almost every day with her goddamn breakfast."

Before Kyle could respond, Karen was breezing into the room wearing short shorts and a bikini top. Kenny bristled to see what she had on, the skimpy shit she considered clothing now that she was almost in high school.

"Where the hell are you going?" Kenny asked, clenching his hand around his beer.

Karen glanced over her shoulder while stuffing a few things in her bag. She frowned, clearly annoyed at her overprotective older brother's impending interrogation.

"To Ruby's, she's having a pool party today." She pulled out her phone to check the time. "I already told you about this, Kenny, and I'm already running late, so -"

"Hold it," Kenny said, coming over to her. "Aren't you going to put a shirt on? You can't walk over there like that."

Karen looked down at herself and then looked back up at Kenny, one eyebrow raised.

"This is my swimsuit. What's the big deal?"

"It's, well," Kenny groped for the right word, "indecent! That's it, it's indecent, Karen."

Karen looked at Kyle incredulously, clearly looking for support. Kenny glanced at Kyle too, clearly making sure that he was going to side with him on this issue. Kyle just looked away uncomfortably and opened his drink, taking a quick gulp. Kenny looked back at Karen, his arms crossed now, the beer still clenched in his hand.

"Like I said, you aren't walking over to Ruby's like that, Karen. I forbid it."

Karen laughed, even going so far as to rest her hand on Kenny's arm like the situation was so hilarious she needed something to hold her up.

"You forbid me? Seriously? Kenny, you can't stop me from doing anything, and besides," she hefted her bag onto her shoulder. "Are you going to drive me? I didn't think your car was even running right now."

Kenny bristled.

"Well, it's not, but -"

"So, what? You can't drive me and I'm running late, so I'm out of here." Karen started to leave and then glanced back at Kyle, studying him. She reached into her bag and grabbed something, came over, and plunked it on the counter in front of him. "I think these would look super cute on you, Kyle." She smiled knowingly. She turned and when she walked past Kenny she smirked. "And if you want to talk about indecent, Kenny, I've seen the magazines in your closet, so let's not even go there, okay?"

Kenny could only wordlessly gape at his sister as she slammed out of the house, leaving them alone. Fury was rising up inside of him, and he groped for something to focus on so he wouldn't punch the wall and destroy some of the wood paneling Kyle seemed to hate so much. He took a swig of beer and almost emptied half of the bottle in one drink, and then his eyes fell on what Karen had left on the counter for Kyle; a pair of red sunglasses with heart-shaped frames. He came over and snatched them up.

"Why would she give me these?" Kyle asked, studying them. "They're so girly."

"That's probably the exact reason she gave them to you, Kyle," Kenny replied, sighing. He had to admit, they probably would look really cute on Kyle, but then again everything did. In fact, he was kind of happy that his sister had decided to part with them because Kenny didn't like seeing her wear them anymore, not after he'd seen Kubrick's 'Lolita'; that film had seriously fucked with his head and had actually managed to make him more obsessive about protecting his little sister's virtue. Kyle, however, was just perfect for the glasses, and he pressed them into his hand.

"Put them on," Kenny instructed. "They're Karen's Lolita glasses; they'd be perfect for you."

Kyle still hesitated, staring at them with faint distaste. He glanced up at Kenny, his eyes narrowed.

"We seriously need to talk about this preoccupation you seem to have about turning me into a girl, Kenny," he said, but even as he spoke he put the sunglasses on, and Kenny's heartbeat sped up. God, he was so fucking cute; now all Kyle needed was a lollipop to suck on and Kenny would have the perfect beat off material. "Well, what do you think?" He asked.

Kenny set his beer down and reached down to take hold of Kyle's hips, drawing him close. Kyle made a little sound in his throat, almost like he was afraid, but he came willingly and didn't resist when Kenny leaned down to brush his mouth softly, enjoying the taste of diet Coke on his lips.

"I think this is just the distraction I needed," Kenny replied, kissing those soft lips again; that perfect, sassy mouth. He was still annoyed about his bratty little sister, but his irritation was quickly being overshadowed by new fantasies and plans for Kyle, his Kyle.

The rest of the afternoon passed amiably enough, with Kenny working on his car and Kyle reading in the sun while music blared from the stereo. Kenny's parents were out doing God knows what and Karen was at her stupid pool party, so they had the place to themselves. Kyle had texted Stan at one point to see if he could come hang out but he wasn't available because he'd gotten roped into one of Randy's random family togetherness things, which still cropped up from time to time. Kenny had texted Stan as well, but their exchange had been significantly different.

After Kenny kissed Kyle in the kitchen he'd pushed him up against the counter, his lips drifting to Kyle's neck and making him moan. He'd wanted to do so much more in that moment but he'd managed to stop himself somehow. Kenny realized that at the end of the day Kyle had a special relationship with Stan, a very important connection, and even though he was crazy attracted to him, Kenny didn't want to fuck with that bond, or his friendship with Stan. Rather, he'd gone to the bathroom after managing to disentangle himself from Kyle, and had contacted Stan to get his perspective.

 _Dude, spitfire is here and he looks really good. I don't think I can resist._

Stan had texted back pretty quickly.

 _Oh? Does he seem open to, you know...?_

Kenny smirked. Kyle would never admit that he was down to fuck, not verbally anyway, but his eyes did all the talking for him.

 _Oh, yeah. But I wanted to make sure it was cool with you before I did anything. I mean, I know we both love him, but he's mostly yours._

He hated having to admit that, even though it was the God honest truth. Kyle and Stan had something that couldn't be properly articulated in words. Really, it was more of a feeling, just a universal understanding, the love that they had. Kenny loved Kyle in his own way, but it was more of a need to protect him and own him simultaneously.

 _I trust you, dude. As long as he's okay and wants to do it, I'm fine. Just take care of him, okay?_

He had to hold back a laugh at that. Of course Kenny was going to take care of Kyle; he'd take care of him very well, and he texted Stan as such, though he was sure the innuendo was lost using this form of communication. Before he left the bathroom, he studied his reflection and wiped a smudge of grease off of his cheek, and pushed his messy sun-streaked hair off his forehead. He'd foregone his heavy jacket and was wearing his usual wifebeater, his tattoos snaking up his arms and curling around his biceps. A fleeting thought of Kyle in the Lolita sunglasses passed through his head, and he could feel himself getting hard. Kenny grabbed another beer on the way outside, where Kyle was waiting, hoping that it would help him relax a little.

Now the sun was starting to sink behind the mountains and the fireflies were winking in the trees, coming to life one by one. The scorch in the earth and on the metal of Kenny's car was starting to die down, and he was pretty sure that he'd figured out what was wrong with the engine, so that had put him in a pretty good mood. When he came out from under the hood he looked toward the house and saw that Kyle had moved, and was now sitting on the back of his car, scrolling through his phone. The late afternoon sun glinted off of the sunglasses he still wore, and vaguely Kenny could hear music still blaring from the stereo, and he was almost certain that it was Plush by Stone Temple Pilots.

Coming around the car, he wiped his hands on the same dirty rag as before, and stopped in front of Kyle, who looked up briefly from his phone with a little smile, pushing the sunglasses up onto the top of his head, holding his bangs back.

"So, did you figure out the issue so you can drive me to the movies?" His delicate finger flicked at the screen of his phone, his pink tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth.

Kenny didn't reply, instead he reached out and took Kyle's phone from his hand and tucked it into his back pocket. Kyle looked momentarily annoyed until his eyes settled on Kenny's face, and then they changed, and that same slinking desire was seeping through them, like blood through still, green waters. Fiery sunlight caught the lenses of the sunglasses, and for a moment Kenny was dazzled. Slowly, he placed his hands on Kyle's knees and he gently nudged them apart until his legs were open enough so that he could fit himself in between them. With his hands still on Kyle's thighs, he leaned down and licked his lips apart and they kissed, and he sighed when Kyle still tasted of diet coke but now there was a new flavor; he also tasted like an orange lifesaver he'd found in his pocket and originally offered to Kenny. He'd declined because he knew that he was going to get to taste the candy either way, and he preferred to taste it on Kyle's tongue.

They kissed until they were both in a daze, and Kenny's hands came to rest on Kyle's ass, pulling him closer so that he was seated precariously on the edge of the car. He clenched his thighs on Kenny's sides and wrapped his arms around his neck, moaning as Kenny slid his tongue down his jaw and to his throat, to the rapid pulse beating there. Kenny's mind was awash with everything he wanted to do to Kyle, and it almost overwhelmed him that he could be so attracted to him, to his tempestuous personality, to the bite in his nature. As always, when Kenny held him like this, he could easily envision princesses trapped in castles and maidens waiting to be rescued, and as he wound his fingers through Kyle's hair and pulled his head back so he could kiss his neck more easily, Kenny could only imagine keeping him contained so he could have him like this always.

Kenny was feeling particularly aggressive at this point, though he couldn't really say why. Maybe it was being pissed off at Karen, or his fucking car being a piece of shit, or maybe it was the the heart shaped glasses resting in Kyle's hair and the heady scent of orange candy and sunblock emanating from his skin, but before he knew it, Kenny had Kyle bent over in front of the car, his hands gripping the top of the trunk, and he was working Kyle's shorts down so his ass was exposed in the fading sunlight. Kenny quickly unzipped his jeans and pulled his cock out, already glistening with pre-cum, and he licked his hand to lubricate himself as well as Kyle, sliding one and then two fingers inside of him to get him ready.

He still couldn't believe how fucking tight Kyle was, but it didn't really surprise him. He'd only been with Stan and himself, and he liked to think of Kyle as the best kept secret in South Park - nobody else needed to know what a good fuck he was, how he clenched around Kenny's cock until he thought he was going to lose his mind. Right now he was moaning and clutching at the car while pressing his ass back against Kenny, and he wanted to tease him for being such a little cock slut, but at that moment he was so aroused he couldn't speak, and within a moment he was inching into Kyle's tight heat. Kyle spread his legs a little more and raised his ass another inch, already an expert at opening himself up for Kenny, and before too long he was buried in him completely, and it felt so good that he was afraid to move because he knew was going to come instantly if he did.

Instead, he tried to distract himself with the acute dichotomy that seemed to make up Kyle's personality. On the one hand, he was super straight-laced and serious, always ready to argue about a cause he believed in or go head to head with Cartman over any stupid, little thing, but at times like this, Kenny almost thought Kyle was born to be a slut, because he was so open and willing to be taken and used, but god, he didn't want to think he was using him. He loved Kyle, had loved him for ages, and at one point the love had turned into painful lust, and when he saw how decidedly feminine Kyle was, so delicate but so prickly too, he couldn't help but think of him as a spitfire, his own irresistible, little spitfire; almost pocket-sized and practically burning with the need to be tamed and fucked.

In a lot of ways he resented Stan for taking up permanent residence in Kyle's heart and destroying any hope Kenny might have had to be his one and only, but he could play the game. Why else would he have approached Stan about seeing to Kyle's needs, which were clearly very important to both of them. Stan would never have taken the initiative to approach Kyle first, so Kenny had had to take the reins and because he did he was now able to fuck him up against his car on a beautiful summer evening. The experiment in Kyle's basement had yielded amazing results, and when Kenny was able to get control of himself, he was able to thrust into Kyle, but only a little; so softly. He slid in and out as he listened to Kyle gasp and plead for more, and he gripped his hips hard enough to leave bruises, and he couldn't help but think of the story where the princess slept on a stack of mattresses but one pea was enough to damage her fragile skin.

Kyle clenched around Kenny's cock in a way that could only be described as exquisite, and he tried to focus on the sunglasses resting on his hair, and the way Kyle's shirt rode up his back exposing his pale skin and the slight nature of his frame, but that only served to make Kenny feel even closer to coming. Speeding up now, he decided to give in, and he drove into Kyle with hard thrusts that made him choke out Kenny's name each time, and it was almost a mantra filling his ears as he fucked him in the gathering twilight, alternative rock leaking from the stereo and into the air. Finally, he couldn't hold back anymore and he was spilling his heat into Kyle, and it filled him up to the point where his come was sliding down the backs of his thighs, and even this was enough to make Kenny's mouth water. Before he pulled out, he leaned forward and dropped a kiss on Kyle's lower back, and he delighted in feeling the shiver that coursed through his skin.

Afterward, when they'd cleaned up and Kyle had kissed him chastely on the cheek in a decidedly princess-like fashion, Kenny had made good on his promise to take Kyle on a date. They went to the movies and he bought Kyle a box of lemon heads, anticipating how the kisses would taste later on as each of the candies dissolved on Kyle's tongue. During the film Kenny dozed with his head on Kyle's shoulder in the blue-tinged darkness, already exhausted from a day of working in the sunshine and fucking his Kyle against the Eclipse. He'd even let Kyle drive them back to his house because he felt too relaxed, too loose, to get behind the wheel of his own car.

Kenny was in bed by the time Kyle had showered and entered the room, and he sat up in surprise to see what he was wearing; an old t-shirt of Karen's that she'd clearly let him borrow. Even though Kenny was still pissed at her she was obviously on good terms with Kyle, and Kenny had to admit that he looked cute as fuck in the oversized shirt with the teddy bear on the front. He was even more surprised when Kyle climbed onto the bed beside him and saw that he wasn't wearing any boxers.

"Dude, what are you doing?" Kenny asked, fighting back the urge to grab Kyle and throw him down on the mattress. "Why are you wearing Karen's clothes?"

Kyle shrugged.

"You seem to like me this way," he replied, playing with the hem of his shirt and pulling it up slightly, exposing pale thighs. "I kind of thought you'd be happy if I played along a little."

"Are you sure?"

Kyle kissed him on the cheek and reached down to rest his hand on the front of Kenny's boxers, where his quickly stiffening cock was waiting.

"I think I've made it pretty obvious that I have no problem with indulging your fantasies, Kenny. If you want me to be your princess or whatever, I'm totally okay with that." He blushed a little, and it only made Kenny love him more.

"Come here," Kenny murmured, and he pulled him close to kiss his lips, and the wonderful flavor of lemon candy crept over his tongue, intoxicating him as the kiss deepened; the way he knew it would.

As he fucked Kyle that night, bathed in the light of the moon falling through his windows, Kenny quickly figured out that Kyle represented a million and one things to him. Kyle was his fantasy, his fairy tale princess and damsel in distress, his Lolita with a lollipop between his lips and the heart shaped sunglasses obscuring his eyes, but, god, he was so much more. Kenny had always thought of him as his little spitfire, his deepest-held dream and most agonizing desire, but when he was holding him in his arms and he was kissing that gasping mouth that was capable of cruelty and kindness, Kenny decided that Kyle was his everything. All he wanted to do was hold him close for as long as he could, even though Kyle wasn't his to keep; though he desperately wished he was, and the thought broke his heart even as it filled with an unbearable longing that threatened to destroy him.


	3. Chapter 3

"Where the hell did you get these?"

Kyle could feel his sunglasses being snatched from the top of his head, and he looked up in annoyance to see Cartman staring down at him. He was just lucky that they hadn't snagged his hair and pulled one of his curls. Irritation rose up inside of his stomach but he tried to keep it in check; after all, he didn't want to make an ass of himself in front of everyone. Instead, he stood up and brushed off the seat of his pants and held his hand out, one eyebrow raised.

"Give me my glasses back, dick weed. Now."

Cartman ignored Kyle's request as he continued to inspect the heart-shaped sunglasses, the red frames catching the late afternoon sun and making the red plastic sparkle like hard candy. After a moment, he opened them up and slid them onto his face, making Kyle grit his teeth; suddenly he had the strong urge to punch him across the face. He'd grown very attached to the sunglasses since Karen had given them to him, not to mention the fact that Kenny seemed to enjoy seeing Kyle wear them.

"Dude, these are chick sunglasses. Why the fuck do you have them?" Cartman asked, tipping the sunglasses forward so he could peer at Kyle over the lenses.

Kyle sighed and crossed his arms. Leave it to Cartman to fuck with something as seemingly innocent as sunglasses.

"Kenny's sister gave them to me, asshole. Now hand them over before I fucking knock you out."

Cartman started laughing like he'd never heard anything so funny in his entire life, clutching at his stomach and making a huge show of it.

"You've got to be kidding me, Kyle. You're seriously wearing something that Kenny's little sister gave you? What, do you borrow her bras too?" Cartman continued to laugh hysterically, and now Kyle could feel the color rising in his cheeks. Looking around, he made sure that no one was paying attention to the spectacle, but amazingly all of their friends and classmates were still going about their business. Kyle was just glad that the music was really loud and everyone seemed preoccupied with their own affairs.

"Stop fucking around, Cartman," he seethed, his hands clenching into fists. "I told you where I got them now give them back!"

Cartman took off the glasses and smirked, a devious gleam appearing in his eyes.

"Nah, I think I'll hold onto them for awhile. What do you think?" He paused for a moment, thinking, and then he lifted the glasses high above his head. "Unless of course you want to take them back yourself?"

Kyle eyed the sunglasses and now the red plastic was practically blazing from the sun, which was quickly sliding toward the mountains in the distance. It glinted off the surface of Spark's Pond and the beer bottles in the hands of their friends, who were still dancing and chattering among themselves as Kyle had to deal with Cartman's bullshit yet again. Why did he have to make it his mission to screw with Kyle every chance he got, and why did he have to do it during a party? It wasn't fucking fair; Cartman knew as well as Kyle that there was no way he was going to be able to get the glasses back like that. Cartman had grown half a foot during their junior year and now he towered over Kyle, who suddenly hated his small stature more than ever.

"Or," Cartman said, softly. "Or you could beg me for them, Kyle. Yes, I actually think I like that idea better. Don't you?"

Kyle's heart started to pound at his suggestion, and he knew that he couldn't bring himself to do that; there was just no way. But he really wanted his sunglasses back, mainly because Kenny loved to see Kyle wear them, and he liked making Kenny happy. Stan seemed to like seeing Kyle wear them too, and he suddenly wished they were there, but they'd wanted to go swimming and he'd opted to stay behind and watch their stuff. Feeling some of the fight drain out of him in the face of desperation, Kyle loosened his hands and uncrossed his arms, letting them fall by his sides so he could show Cartman that he didn't want to argue, and was willing to concede, at least somewhat.

Cartman seemed pleased to see Kyle backing down a little, and now his eyes weren't just devious; no, now they appeared hungry too, which frightened Kyle even more. Their friendship had changed over the years, ever since they'd entered high school, and now Cartman didn't just seem interested in tormenting him for fun; now there was a dimension to his bullying that didn't sit well with Kyle, even though he tried to ignore it. He also tried to ignore how curious Cartman had become about his relationships with Stan and Kenny because, really, it was none of his goddamn business.

"Fine, Cartman, whatever. Just keep the stupid glasses if it's that important, okay?" Kyle said, running a hand through his hair. "I'm gonna go get something to drink."

He tried to walk around Cartman toward where the coolers were sitting near the edge of the pond, but was surprised when a hand closed around his arm and yanked him back. Cartman pulled him back around and stared into his eyes, his nostrils flaring a little bit and his cheeks an angry candy apple red. Kyle took a step back, a faint feeling of perspiration cropping up on his forehead. What had started out as mere teasing was beginning to become something else entirely, and suddenly he just wanted to run away, but Cartman's hand was still locked around his arm.

A thought, or rather, a memory came to Kyle then, something Stan had said months ago before any of this had really started. He'd been commenting on Kyle and Cartman's animosity for one another, and how it was "clearly sexual." The words made him shudder now because, while Kyle didn't have even one sexual feeling in his body for him, he couldn't be so sure about Cartman. He put up his hand to push back against Cartman's chest and he winced, feeling the muscle there that had taken the place of fat; he hadn't just gotten taller, he'd gotten stronger.

"I said beg for them, Kyle, and then I'll give them back," Cartman said, his fingers digging into Kyle's arm.

Kyle shook his head.

"I'm not doing that, Cartman. I already told you, just keep the fucking glasses and leave me alone." He tried to pull away but Cartman's hand tightened, making him whimper a little. "Why are you acting like this, dude? What do you want from me anyway?"

Cartman sputtered a little, seemingly taken aback at Kyle's direct question; free of insults. His look of surprise was quickly overtaken by anger again.

"I don't want anything from you, Kyle. Quit being fucking ridiculous," he said, but he was still flushed and holding the glasses so tightly Kyle was afraid they were going to snap in half.

"Right, that's why you're terrorizing me over a pair of sunglasses," Kyle choked out, his arm beginning to throb. Desperately, he looked around to see if Stan or Kenny were finally coming back.

Cartman shook him a little, pulling Kyle's focus back to his face. He smirked.

"What, are you looking for Stan and Kenny? Do they need to come rescue you or something?"

Kyle flushed, and was surprised to find that while he hated the idea of being rescued he also kind of liked it, secretly.

"Now you're just being completely fucking crazy, Cartman," he said.

"No, I'm not. You guys have been hanging out without me more and more lately, Kyle. What's your deal with them, huh? And why am I not being included?"

A realization flooded Kyle at this question, and suddenly he knew what Cartman's motivation was; really, he could've kicked himself for being so dense. Kyle bit back a laugh and couldn't resist twisting the screw a little, because if anyone deserved it it was Cartman.

"Now I get it," he said, softly. "You're jealous, aren't you?"

Stan broke through the surface of the water with a gasp, relishing the coolness against his skin as the sunlight poured over him. Wiping droplets out of his eyes and pushing his hair back, he looked around to see where Kenny went. After a moment, he popped up too, his dirty blonde hair plastered against his forehead. Stan splashed him a little to get his attention.

"This feels so great," he said, laying on his back and staring up at the periwinkle sky, the clouds washed with the fading orange sunlight. Pretty soon the evening star would appear and everyone would be clambering to start the bonfire to hold back the nighttime chill. He could just imagine Kyle huddling next to the flames, the red of his hair burning just as brightly as the fire. "I'm so glad Wendy decided to have her end of summer party; she was kind of on the fence about it."

"Hmm," Kenny replied, floating next to him. "Yeah, this is nice, but it would've been better if Kyle had actually wanted to swim."

"Oh, you know how he is, dude. Kyle gets in a mood and then he needs his alone time. He'll loosen up after he has a beer or two. Speaking of which, I wonder what he's up to?" Stan lifted his head and looked toward the shore, and what he saw there made him shoot straight up. "Jesus, what now?"

"Huh?" Kenny glanced over his shoulder, too. "Fucking for real?" He seethed, when his eyes fell on the same thing Stan had seen.

"Come on, let's go," Stan said, swimming toward the grass with Kenny in tow. When they made it to the shore they started running, and Stan could feel his heart thudding in his chest; mostly from anger.

"Cartman, let me go, okay? I don't care if you want the glasses but just leave me alone!" Kyle said, and as they came closer Stan could tell that he was in pain, just by the way he was speaking. His fists clenched at the sight of Cartman holding Kyle's arm, at the way he was gripping the pale skin. Without thinking, he reached out and grabbed Cartman's wrist and sqeezed it so tightly that Cartman yelped.

Kenny went to Kyle and put his arm around his shoulder, drawing him close. He glared at Cartman, one eyebrow raised.

"What the fuck were you doing, Cartman? Why are you messing with Kyle?" Kenny turned to look into Kyle's face, concerned. "Are you okay?"

Kyle leaned against Kenny, his eyes wide. Biting his lip, he managed to say something about his sunglasses. Stan looked down at Cartman's hand, and saw that Kyle's sunglasses were clenched in his fingers. Moving quickly, he snatched them out of Cartman's hand.

"Why do you always have to fuck with Kyle, Cartman? Seriously, what is your problem?"

Cartman rubbed his wrist and glared back, his face red and sweaty.

"I could ask you guys the same goddamn thing," he replied. "Just what the fuck are you doing together? Everyone's talking about this weird arrangement you have."

"That's none of your business," Kenny said, coldly, still holding onto Kyle. "Why do you even care anyway?"

"He wants to know why you won't share me with him," Kyle said, softly, and his words made Stan feel sick to his stomach. He glanced at Cartman with new disgust.

"Really, Cartman? Jesus, that shit is sick, even for you."

"Right, I'm the one that's sick, while you guys are using him like he's some kind of glorified sex toy," Cartman said, his voice rising. Stan saw Kyle flinch and bury his face in Kenny's chest. "If he's going to act like a slut then I should be able to get in on the action."

Now Stan's blood really was boiling, and he stepped toward Cartman, his right hand clenched into a fist and starting to shake.

"I always knew you had some weird thing for Kyle, but I always thought it was kind of a joke, but now you're really crossing the fucking line," he seethed. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "You better shut the fuck up right now; I'm warning you."

"Yeah, and what are you going to do? Huh, Stan? You're offended that I insulted your little pet, your little ginger fuck t-"

Cartman didn't have a chance to get out the rest of his question before Stan clocked him right across his face, causing a spray of blood to stream from his mouth. In a flash his left fist came up and caught him in the stomach, causing Cartman to stumble backward and against a tree, barely able to keep himself up. Wheezing, he looked like he was about ready to say something else when Stan came up and grabbed his hair, yanking his head back so it collided with the trunk.

"Do you have something else to say?" Stan asked, his voice low and furious. He banged Cartman's head back against the tree again, and he could hear Kyle gasp behind him; almost like he felt bad for the sorry motherfucker.

Blood was seeping from the corner of Cartman's mouth, and as it curled down his chin the fight seemed to drain from him too, and when Stan looked into his eyes again he was surprised to see that the malice was gone; having been overtaken by some kind of off-putting sadness. Feeling unsettled, he let go of Cartman's hair and stepped back.

"Get out of here," Stan said, quietly. "Just go, okay? Leave Kyle alone."

Cartman brought a hand to his mouth and stared at the blood that clung to his palm when he pulled it away. He looked up at Stan and the sadness was still there, but he left wordlessly, slumping along through the grass and disappearing into the throng of people still partying on the shore. Dimly, Stan could smell wood burning, and he supposed that they were already prepping the bonfire because the sun had all but disappeared behind the mountains. Sighing, he turned back to Kyle and Kenny, and saw that Kyle was still hugged to Kenny's chest, his face pressed against his shirt.

"I think we all need something to drink," he said, rubbing his already throbbing knuckles. "I'll go grab some beers."

He wanted to fucking kill Eric Cartman. No, he needed to fucking kill Eric Cartman; there was no way around it.

Kyle was still clinging to Kenny's shirt, his face buried in his shirt and his body trembling. Kenny held him close, his hand drifting down to rub Kyle's back, his heart hurting to see him so upset.

 _He wants to know why you won't share me with him._

Just the thought of those words was enough to make Kenny feel murderous, and he could vividly imagine snapping Cartman's neck in his hands. It was hard enough sharing Kyle with Stan, but just the thought of Cartman touching him was enough to make him want to vomit. He glanced down at the heart-shaped sunglasses that Stan had left next to their things when he'd gone to get the beers, and it took everything in him not to get up and go after Cartman; beat his fucking head in against a rock. Kenny took a deep breath, trying to get control of himself.

Kyle pulled away and looked into Kenny's eyes, his own a striking green; slightly darkened from fear, if Kenny had to guess. They still looked scared, but now there was concern there, too.

"Am I a slut?" Kyle asked, his bottom lip trembling a little.

"What? No!" Kenny replied, completely blindsided by his question. Leaning forward, he kissed Kyle's forehead and then his cheeks. "Of course you aren't; god, don't tell me you're going to listen to Eric fucking Cartman of all people. You know he'd say anything to get to you."

Kyle looked away, his face flushed and so pretty in the dying sunlight.

"It's just, I've been with you and Stan, and I thought -"

"We're with you because we love you, Kyle," Kenny said, cutting him off. "Cartman is just jealous, he's always been jealous when it comes to you, okay? The only way he knows how to express himself is to insult you and tear you down; you know that."

"Yes, I do, it's just," he looked into Kenny's eyes again, clearly still uncertain. "Is it okay for us to do this? Are you going to sleep with Stan, too?"

Kenny almost had to laugh at Kyle's question, mainly because it sounded so unlike him. Kyle was so smart when it came to academic matters but so naive when it came to stuff like this. In many ways, Kenny was so much more mature when it came to relationships, and he felt bad for getting Kyle tangled up in something so complicated so quickly.

"I guess I wouldn't be opposed to it," Kenny said, carefully. "But I'm not really interested in Stan like that, Kyle. I'm interested in you." He pulled Kyle into his lap and pressed his lips against his temple, breathing in the scent of Kyle's clean sweat and his shampoo; surprised at how easily aroused he became as a result. "And of course it's okay for us to do this. We all want to do this, we're all consenting; so who is it hurting?"

"No one, I guess," Kyle said, smiling a little. He lay his head against Kenny's cheek and sighed, some of the tension leaving his body. Kenny pressed his hand against Kyle's heart and smiled to feel it beating a little slower; happy that he was calming down and coming back to himself. "I just don't understand why you both want me," he said, softly.

"I don't know if I could explain it properly," Kenny replied, honestly. How could he, really? He surely couldn't, not in words, anyway. Maybe it was because he was young but he only really felt like he could express the extent of his love when he was doing it physically, but he was afraid that if he made any overtures right now Kyle really would feel like he was just a slut; a plaything, and he didn't want that. Instead, he hugged him close and ran his fingers through Kyle's hair, loving every curl and tendril, wanting to kiss them all. "I do enjoy rescuing you, though," he said, and he couldn't help but smirk.

Kyle pulled back and Kenny could see that his eyes had changed, and he knew more than anyone what desire looked like as it coursed through those green eyes; seeping into the emerald and making it murky. His heartbeat accelerated and he felt breathless when Kyle spoke again.

"Fuck me, Kenny," he whispered, his voice barely recognizable, his teeth worrying at his full bottom lip.

That's all it took for Kenny's cock to start becoming hard, to hear his little spitfire ask to be fucked, because he'd never asked for it before. His mouth was suddenly wet, and he had to swallow down the moisture as he reached up and cupped Kyle's face. God, how did he ever become lucky enough to have this opportunity? How had this princess become his?

"Is that really what you want?" Kenny looked away, suddenly aware that there were tons of people around, which honestly only turned him on more. Looking back at Kyle, he saw that the desire was deepening, his eyes becoming limpid and soft; a heated blush rising up on pale cheeks.

Kyle answered by leaning forward and nipping softly at Kenny's bottom lip, and when his mouth opened Kyle's tongue was inside, warm and insistent and oh so ready.

When Stan came back with the drinks and saw that Kyle was straddling Kenny's lap and kissing him deeply, insistently; his fingers curled into the back of Kenny's shirt, he was actually surprised at the twinge of jealousy that rose up in his belly. This feeling was foreign to him because he'd always assumed that Kyle was his, and while Kenny loved him too, Stan hadn't felt threatened. If anything, he was of the mindset that more love was always a good thing, and he trusted Kenny; he was almost like a brother to him.

But what he saw that day at Stark's Pond as the sun finally disappeared behind the mountains and the smell of the bonfire was curling under his nose, the smoky aroma making him feel nostalgic, filled him with a new type of dread; one that he didn't entirely understand but he knew he didn't like it. Coming over, he rested a hand on Kyle's hair and stroked it softly, and when he looked up into Stan's face, he was surprised to see how flushed his face was; the lost look in his eyes. Kenny regarded him as well, a veiled smile on his face that was friendly enough, but in Stan's new frame of mind he almost viewed it as a challenge.

"Here, man," he said, handing Kenny a beer. "Kyle, I got you a wine cooler because I know you aren't a huge fan of beer." He handed Kyle an Arbor Mist and Stan watched greedily as he screwed the top off and drank, his lips resting on the opening of the bottle.

Stan sat down on the blanket that they had spread across the ground and drank his beer quickly, needing a buzz. His eyes trailed over the way Kyle was straddling Kenny's lap and the jealousy continued to simmer, but he tried to fight it down. Stan was on his way to descending into a pretty bad mood when Kyle set his drink aside and lifted himself from Kenny's lap. He crawled over and knelt in front of Stan, the flush still blazing in his skin and his green eyes soft like the forest around them. Stan gulped when Kyle leaned forward and whispered in his ear softly, his breath wafting warm and tantalizing against his skin.

"Fuck me, Stan," he whispered, and he kissed Stan's cheek.

Stan could only stare at him in complete shock. He'd never heard Kyle say that before, and for a moment his mind tumbled into crazy places; envisioning sailors being drawn to their destruction by sirens calling from distant shores, and nymphs dancing through meadows and enticing anyone who saw them. Kenny was always talking about Kyle like he was some sort of mythical creature, a princess, a maiden that needed saving, but he'd always brushed it away because Kenny was prone to being overly romantic, but suddenly he could see what he meant. Kyle had a draw about him, a pull, that was very hard to resist, and when he was sitting in front of Stan and begging to be fucked, he couldn't help but be seduced, feel the fire racing through his blood and becoming unbearable.

In a haze, Stan was aware that he was getting to his feet and holding out a hand to help Kyle up. Vaguely, he could see Kenny picking up the blanket and tucking it under his arm, and then the three of them linked hands and they were walking deeper into the forest, away from the crowd and noise; the bonfire's flames licking against the sky near the shore of the pond. They walked, Kyle between them, until they found a spot that was shielded from view if someone came upon them, and they rolled out the blanket. Stan was dazed when Kyle slid his swimming trunks down, and all at once his warm mouth was sliding over his cock, and he gasped to feel the sumptuous heat engulf him. His fingers tangled in those lovely red curls and he sighed, already feeling close even though they'd barely begun.

Kyle was still new to sucking cock, but his enthusiasm made up for his lack of skill, and before long Stan was moaning out his name over and over as his cock went deeper each time. He took care not to fuck Kyle's mouth too roughly because he'd never want to hurt him, even though he wanted to keep him all to himself. Stan looked up as he got closer to the edge, and he caught Kenny's eyes as he watched, and a savage possessiveness welled up inside of him that made him feel ashamed; they all loved each other, didn't they?

All too soon, Stan was coming down Kyle's throat and he was proud to see that he only hesitated a little, pulling back at the end and some of it landing on his cheek. Stan lovingly rubbed his thumb through it, clearing it away, and kissed those pink lips, relishing his taste on them, reveling in Kyle. He wanted to tell Kyle that when he was calling out his name that it wasn't what he really wanted to say, no, Stan had wanted to say that Kyle was his, and always would be. He'd wanted to say it over and over until Kyle understood, and accepted it as fact; even as Kenny watched and heard.

It was this thought that kept Stan sane as he watched Kenny slide into Kyle, taking him slowly and carefully from behind as music drifted through the trees from the party still raging. He was able to pull his eyes away long enough to see the stars burning in empty solitude eons away, and when he looked back he could feel a slow tenderness overcoming him at the sight of Kyle panting as Kenny thrust into him, his hands resting on his hips. More than anything Stan wanted to believe that they were all in this together, and he didn't want to risk destroying the comfort they'd created, the warmth, just because of petty, insecure jealousy. He felt at a loss until Kenny looked into his eyes and smiled, the same old smile he'd always had; casual and inviting.

Stan found himself being drawn in, and it was truly like Kyle was a star with his own gravitational pull, but Kenny had his own power; his own steady warmth that shone on him like the sun. Thoughts of jealousy and possession momentarily fled Stan's mind as he found himself kissing Kenny, their mouths opening to one another as he continued to thrust into their Kyle. They continued to kiss even when Kenny came, and Stan could feel him shuddering with every stroke, his throaty gasps fading away into whimpers as Stan's tongue slid into his mouth; tasting him, the beer on his tongue, and his deep, overwhelming desire.


	4. Chapter 4

"Dude, you have to be kidding me; there's no way I'm going to do that. Forget it."

Wendy sighed and crossed her arms, her face beseeching but also clearly aggravated.

"You have to, Stan. Come on, you'd be doing me a favor!"

"Wendy, this is ridiculous and weird and I'm not doing doing it." Stan turned away from her, barely able to comprehend what she was asking of him. It was definitely the last thing he'd ever expected.

A moment of silence passed before Stan felt a tiny tug on the back of his shirt, and feeling some of his resolve slip slightly, he glanced over his shoulder to see Wendy staring up at him; her violet eyes pleading. A blush rose on his cheeks and even though they weren't dating anymore, he could easily see why he'd been such a pushover for her in the past. He groaned.

"I just don't understand why you need us to do this," he asked, turning back to her and slumping into a chair. "It just doesn't make a lot of sense."

Wendy's eyes sharpened to see the tiniest crack in Stan's armor, and her tone became sly and wheedling. Coming over, she sat on the desk next to Stan and crossed her legs, one ballet flat dangling off the end of her toe; Stan watching her suspiciously.

"It makes perfect sense, Stan. I mean, everybody knows that you and Kyle are a thing, and it'd be so cute to have you two play the leads in the play." She stood up, her hands clasped under her chin, her eyes shining. "Kyle would be absolutely adorable as the princess and you'd be perfect as the prince. Don't you think?"

"Not really," Stan replied, rubbing the back of his neck. "Besides, I'd never get Kyle to agree to this. You know how stubborn he is."

She turned around and waved her hand dismissively, seemingly unconcerned.

"Whatever. If he sees that you're on board he'll definitely go along. Besides, Kyle's a sucker for extracurricular activities; you just have to sweet talk him."

Stan still felt skeptical.

"Why aren't you having a guy and a girl playing the leads? Why are you so set on me and Kyle?"

Wendy shrugged, sighing a little.

"Well, we didn't really sell as many tickets as we would've liked to last year, and we figured we needed a gimmick if we were going to make the play a success this time around."

"Who's 'we'?" Stan asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Oh, all the girls, Stan. We all got together and decided that you two would be the absolute best fit, not to mention a huge draw." Her eyes suddenly became greedy. "Just think of all the people who'd love to see you guys playing a prince and princess. The girls will want to come because they'll think it's the most adorable idea ever, and the guys will want to come so they can laugh at you. Really, we all win."

Stan stood up abruptly and shoved his hands in his pockets, his cheeks burning.

"Yeah, you guys win. Me and Kyle just end up looking like assholes." He looked down at the floor and gritted his teeth, but he could already feel himself caving in the face of Wendy's pleading. Christ, why did he always have to be such a big fucking softy? Still, he was kind of curious to see Kyle dressed up like a princess, even though he knew he was going to fight it tooth and nail.

"I still don't know," Stan said, slowly. He glanced up at her, and saw that she was smiling in a way that was deceptively innocent; she already knew that he'd do it for her. "What play is it going to be anyway?"

"Sleeping Beauty!" She chirped. "It'll be amazing!"

"No fucking way," Kyle said, pouting and crossing his arms in a huff. "I'm not doing it; end of story."

It was after school and Stan, Kyle, and Kenny were at Happy Burger. Kenny had stepped away to grab their food and Stan had taken this opportunity to broach the subject of Kyle being in the play. Kyle had reacted exactly the way he thought he would and Stan sighed, knowing he was going to be a lot more difficult to convince; Kyle was notorious for having a stubborn streak a mile wide.

"Come on, Kyle," Stan said, trying to sound as pathetic as Wendy had. "You'd be doing Wendy a favor and besides, you like shit like this, don't you?"

Kyle looked up at him, his green eyes burning, his chin tilted up in that cute, contrary way he had.

"I like watching plays, Stan. I never said I like being in them; especially when I'm being asked to play the girl's part!" He looked away haughtily, the late afternoon sunlight pouring through the window and splashing across his face, calling to attention his pale skin and freckles dotting the bridge of his nose.

"Quit being so fucking stubborn, Kyle. Maybe this could actually be fun." Stan reached across the table and tried to grab Kyle's hand but he yanked it away.

"Right, fun. I get to parade around in a dress in front of the entire school and I'm supposed to think that's fun," Kyle scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Get real, Stan."

"God, you're impossible, dude. You know that?" Stan leaned back, annoyed and already ready to throw in the towel. He knew that Kyle was going to act like this, and sometimes it was like moving heaven and earth to get him to see reason.

It was at that moment that Kenny came back to the table with a tray; two burgers, an order of fries, and a strawberry shake resting on it. Setting it down he looked at Stan and then at Kyle, lifting an eyebrow in obvious confusion.

"Are you guys fighting or something?" He asked, setting the shake in front of Kyle and sitting down next to him, his arm looping around his shoulders. Stan watched him closely, his stomach tightening a little to see the way Kenny's fingers drifted onto Kyle's arm and grabbed his t shirt, twisting the material a little. Suddenly he wished that he'd opted to sit next to Kyle instead, but he'd wanted to be able to look him in the face when he asked him about being in the play.

"Yes, we're fighting," Kyle snapped, snatching up his shake and taking a long sip. Stan couldn't help but focus in on his lips suckling at the straw and he could feel himself flushing; Kyle was just so fucking cute without even trying. Really, it just wasn't fair that he was so irresistible, and he could easily see why the girls were so gung ho about him playing a princess.

Kenny cleared his throat and picked up a fry.

"So, is anyone going to tell me what the hell is going on?" He asked, taking a bite.

Kyle slammed his shake down and a wayward splash of pink ice cream sprayed onto his hand. Idly, he licked it away and now Stan was completely hypnotized. Glancing at Kenny, he wasn't surprised to see him watching Kyle too, his blue eyes zeroing in on his pink tongue lapping up the shake. God, he was practically drooling, the horny bastard.

"Stan wants me to play the role of sleeping beauty in the school play," Kyle seethed. "Can you fucking believe that, Kenny?"

Kenny lapsed into silence and all at once a dreamy look came over him, a slow smile moving across his face. Annoyed, Kyle snapped his fingers in front of Kenny's eyes to get his attention.

"Hello? Kenny? Are you even listening?"

Shaking his head, Kenny looked across the table at Stan, his blue eyes blazing and suddenly very intense.

"Dude, that's like the best fucking idea I've ever heard." He glanced at Kyle, his eyebrows raised. "You're gonna do it, right?"

Kyle's eyes nearly bugged out of his skull at this sudden and unexpected development.

"You can't be serious," he said, his voice faint.

"I'm as serious as a fucking heart attack, Kyle. Would you wear a dress and everything?"

"Yes, he would," Stan interjected, smiling. Now that it was two against one there was no way Kyle could refuse. "A really cute, fluffy one," he added, knowing that would really get Kenny going.

"Oh, my god, yes," Kenny said, his eyes wide. He wrapped his arms around Kyle and pulled him into a hug which Kyle actively resisted, his face scrunched up in annoyance. "You have to do it, Kyle. Please, huh? For me?"

Stan kicked Kenny under the table, partially because he wanted him to stop pawing at Kyle but also to remind him that he'd be doing a favor for him too, not just Kenny. Kenny yelped a little and glared at Stan, rubbing his shin. Kyle just continued to suck on his shake and fume.

"We aren't in a fucking anime or something, you guys. There's absolutely no reason for me to play sleeping beauty in some stupid school play," he said, licking ice cream from the corner of his mouth. This time, when both Stan and Kenny watched him with their mouths hanging open a little, he noticed, and he rolled his eyes. "Is anyone even listening to me right now?! You guys are unbelievable!"

Kenny snapped out of his trance first, and his face became thoughtful; pensive, really. Stan could almost hear the wheels turning in his head.

"Didn't you say you'd be willing to be a princess for me, Kyle?" He asked, softly. Idly, he reached up and wound one of Kyle's curls around his finger.

Kyle blushed deeply while Stan just stared at Kenny in shock.

"What the hell are you talking about, dude?" Stan turned his eyes on Kyle, who actively avoided meeting his gaze. "Kyle?"

Kyle looked down at the table, his face practically on fire now.

"Um, I might have told Kenny that I'd indulge his weird fantasy about me. You know, the one about me being a damsel in distress or whatever." Suddenly, he moved so Kenny's arm wasn't around him anymore. "Why the hell are you bringing that up all of a sudden?"

"What's the big deal? Stan wants to see you dress up like a chick, too. I mean, it's so obvious," Kenny said, gesturing at Stan. "Right, dude?"

"Well, yeah, I guess," Stan conceded, still annoyed that Kyle had made promises like that to Kenny without either of them making him aware. Just what the fuck was going on between those two? "It would definitely be hot, Kyle."

Kyle looked at him, clearly scandalized at his answer, but all Stan could do was shrug.

"It's true, okay? I think you'd be the most adorable fucking princess in the world, but I can understand why you wouldn't want to do it." He looked down at the table. "I guess I'll have to tell Wendy that she'll have to find another sleeping beauty, if that's what you really want."

Kyle sighed, his features relaxing a little, and for a moment Stan thought they might have a chance to convince him, but he didn't want to jump the gun. Instead, he continued to wear a hangdog expression, making his face look as sad and disappointed as possible. Kenny followed suit, going so far as to despondently drag a fry through a puddle of ketchup; the very picture of melancholy.

"Okay, let's say I did do it," Kyle said, slowly, his voice still irritated. "Who would play the prince?"

"I would," Stan and Kenny said in unison. A moment of silence fell over the table afterward, Stan and Kenny staring daggers at one another while Kyle just smirked, clearly amused.

"Kenny, Wendy already asked me to play the prince, okay? So, just back off," Stan said, an edge to his voice.

"Why would she ask you to play the prince when I'm clearly the best person for the part?" Kenny countered, putting his arm around Kyle and pulling him close again. Kyle didn't protest this time, opting instead to smile slyly at Stan, one eyebrow raised in a silent challenge.

Stan gritted his teeth, his hands clenching into fists under the table.

"And why would you be the best person, huh?" He asked. "Kyle has way better chemistry with me than he does with you."

"Get a clue, Stan," Kenny scoffed, his arm still draped around Kyle like he was claiming him right in Stan's view. "You lack presence. If you were the prince the whole thing would be a disaster."

"Kyle," Stan said, tightly, glancing at him and resisting the urge to stand up and punch Kenny in the face. "What do you think?"

Kyle just continued to smile, his green eyes lighting up in savage amusement.

"I think things just got a lot more interesting," he said, glancing at the two of them, suddenly looking very pleased with himself.

"Let me get this straight, you're both trying out for the part of the prince?" Wendy asked, glancing between Stan and Kenny. "But, Kenny, I already told Stan he can have the part, so -"

Kenny held up a hand, silencing her.

"Wendy, Stan will choke. Trust me."

Stan bristled noticeably, and Wendy turned to glance at him. Feeling unsure, she put her hands on her hips, trying to make sense of the situation.

"What do you mean he'll choke? I think Stan would make a very," she faltered for a moment but caught herself, "nice prince." She smiled at Stan nervously, who glowered at her.

"Nice, is that what you want? A nice prince? Or do you want a charismatic, sexy prince?" Kenny leaned toward her and smiled, his blue eyes very convincing. Wendy flushed and looked down at the floor, frazzled.

"Kenny, quit trying to manipulate the situation, okay?" Stan snapped, stepping in between them. "Wendy already said I have the part, so you can leave now."

Wendy peered at the both of them, her heart still beating in her chest. Kenny clearly had a way about him, but she still wasn't sure. Glancing behind them, her eyes rested on Kyle, who was standing off to the side with his arms crossed like he really didn't want to have any part in this whole affair. A sudden idea came to her, and she snapped her fingers.

"Okay, the only fair way to settle this is to have you both audition, right?"

Stan and Kenny looked at one another uncertainly, but the animosity was clearly still present. This only served to encourage Wendy's idea, and she knew that the only way she was going to get the best person for the part was to have them both fight for it. She hadn't anticipated this, and now she was starting to get excited; she didn't think she'd be able to find one prince, let alone two. It didn't hurt that Stan and Kenny were two of the hottest guys in the school, and Kyle, well, he was just cute as a fucking button.

"What do you want us to do?" Stan asked, starting to look a little nervous.

Wendy rested a hand on his shoulder, trying to reassure him.

"Well, we need to see who has the best chemistry with Kyle, so," she trailed off, thinking. "What's the crux of the whole story?" She asked, her eyes lighting up.

Kenny ran a hand through his hair, his eyes narrowed. After a moment, he answered slowly, not sounding exactly sure.

"I mean, if I had to guess, isn't the kiss kind of the most important part? When the prince wakes up sleeping beauty?"

"Exactly!" Wendy exclaimed, clasping her hands in front of her chest and bouncing a little. "If that part doesn't flow then the rest of the play is kind of screwed, don't you think?"

"So, what, you want us to practice the kissing scene with Kyle?" Stan asked, blushing a bright red. He looked around at all of the people on the stage, their classmates standing by and watching this entire exchange unfold with looks of delight. "Like, right now?"

"Yes, Stan. Right now," Wendy replied, rolling her eyes. "If you're going to play the prince you have to get used to kissing the princess in front of everyone. It's kind of important, you know."

Kenny just smirked, his hands sliding into the back pockets of his jeans.

"That won't be a problem for me," he said, glancing over at Kyle, who just rolled his eyes and looked away. "It's not like I haven't already had a bunch of practice kissing Kyle." He looked around at the throng of girls and smiled charmingly, making them all sigh and start chattering among themselves.

"Hey, I've kissed Kyle, too!" Stan piped up. "It just feels weird kissing him in front of an audience."

"It's called acting, Stan, so relax, okay?" Wendy said, walking away and down the stage steps. She sat down in the front row next to Mr. Mackey who was assisting in play rehearsals, but really everyone knew that Wendy was in charge. She crossed her arms. "Let's get started. You guys, push the chaise out into the middle of the stage, okay?"

In a moment, Craig and Clyde, who'd somehow been roped into being stage hands appeared and pushed a chaise lounge out of the wings and under the spotlights, right next to Kyle. It had been decorated in glittering silver fabric that draped across the floor and sparkled under the lights.

"That's perfect," Wendy said. "Kyle?"

Kyle looked up expectantly, his eyes wide.

"I want you to lay down and look chaste and ethereal. Got it?"

"Uh, sure," Kyle replied, slowly walking over to the chaise and sitting on it gingerly. He stopped, frowning. "How do I do that exactly?"

"Jesus, just lay back and close your eyes, okay? I'll tell you if you're doing it wrong," Wendy called out, annoyance flaring in her stomach. Clearly, dealing with these three was going to be quite the challenge. Turning to Mr. Mackey, Wendy rolled her eyes and he smiled, happy that she was taking the reins.

Slowly, Kyle lay back against the silver fabric which set off his red hair perfectly, making Wendy sigh a little. If she could just get him to relax a little he'd make the perfect princess, being tiny and pretty and naturally dramatic. He closed his eyes but he scrunched them up too tight, and Wendy groaned, the illusion already broken.

"Kyle, loosen up, okay? You need to look like you're asleep. Right now you look like you're cringing," she called.

After a moment, Kyle's face relaxed a titch and he didn't look as constipated, and she figured they were on the right track, so she let it slide. Wendy glanced at Stan and saw that he looked clenched up too, but there was no time like the present to see what he was capable of.

"Alright, Stan. You're going to walk over to Kyle slowly, like you're completely in awe of him, and you're going to say, 'Oh! What a beautiful princess! Oh, isn't she the girl I met in the forest? Yes, she is!' Got it?"

"I guess," Stan replied, but it was obvious that he was nervous. Wendy smirked, noticing that Kenny was leaning against the wall, looking cool and unruffled.

"After you say your line," Wendy continued, "you lean down beside Kyle and kiss him on the lips. Now, are you ready to give it a try?"

"Sure," he said, and now there was a little shake in his voice as well.

"Great! Okay, quiet everyone!" Wendy called, clapping her hands. Suddenly, the theater became quiet as a grave, and she told Stan that he could start whenever he was ready.

Reluctantly, Stan walked across the stage, white as a sheet, and it almost looked like he'd forgotten how to move his arms and legs at the same time, resembling a robot trying to imitate human movement. When he got closer to Kyle, Stan opened his mouth, shut it, and then running a hand through his hair looked over at Wendy, his face turning a bright crimson.

"Uh, what's the line again?" He asked, sheepishly.

Wendy sighed.

"Oh! What a beautiful princess! Oh, isn't she the girl I met in the forest? Yes, she is!" She replied, but slower this time. "And then you kneel down next to Kyle and kiss him. Okay?"

"Uh huh, got it," Stan said, sounding a little bit more confident, but then he paused. "Should I, uh, should I start over? Like, go back to the stage and walk over again?"

Jesus Christ, this is going to take forever, Wendy thought, but when she spoke she tried to sound encouraging. "Sure, yeah, that's fine. Do whatever you feel comfortable with."

Stan walked over to the stage again and after Wendy gave him his cue, he walked back toward Kyle, and this time he almost walked like a normal person, but he still seemed pretty stiff. Putting a hand on his heart and raising the other dramatically over his head, he called out the line in a stilted, wooden voice, and the kindest thing that could be said about his delivery is that he actually remembered all the words. Ignoring the titters and giggles coming from their classmates, Stan dropped dramatically onto one knee and almost tipped over, but managed to right himself at the last moment. Looking around awkwardly, he looked down at Kyle and now his face was practically smoldering he was blushing so hard. For several moments he just stared at Kyle while everyone waited, until he had paused for so long that Wendy had to speak up.

"Uh, Stan, honey? Are you going to kiss the princess or...?"

Stan nodded hurriedly and started leaning forward, but he moved like molasses, his hands clutching the chaise lounge so hard it looked like he was trying to break it. Kyle, Wendy was happy to note, did indeed look cute and princess-like, his face having smoothed out and his expression calm as he waited to be kissed. With baited breath everyone waited for Stan to finally kiss him on the lips, but at the last moment he seemed to choke and instead planted a sloppy kiss on Kyle's forehead. Wendy had to fight back the urge to scream in frustration, but was able to keep herself in check.

"Stan, what was that? You're not sleeping beauty's grandmother. You're supposed to kiss Kyle on the lips, not the forehead!"

"I know, I just panicked!" Stan replied, still clutching the chaise like it was a lifeline. "Can I try again?"

"Fine, yes, go ahead," Wendy said, sighing again and starting to develop a headache. "But remember, this is supposed to be romantic and filled with passion, okay? True love's first kiss is usually reserved for the lips, not the forehead."

"Right, right. Gotcha." He stood back up and went to the edge of the stage yet again, waited for his cue, and then walked over to Kyle, still mechanically but a little bit smoother, said his line, and dropped onto his knees beside Kyle. This time you could've heard a pin drop as everyone waited for the big moment, and again, at the last second, Stan planted another awkward kiss on Kyle's forehead.

"Seriously, Stan?!" Kyle yelled, sitting up now and looking really irritated. "We've kissed a million times! Why can't you get this right?!"

"I'm sorry! I just got so nervous!" Stan said.

Before Wendy could intervene, Kenny was walking forward, still looking cool and collected. Placing a hand on Stan's shoulder he called out to Wendy, smirking.

"Is it my turn yet?" He asked.

Wendy glanced at Stan, feeling guilty for a moment, but then she considered all the time that was being wasted seeing him make an ass of himself. She nodded at Kenny while shooting Stan an apologetic look.

"Yeah, go ahead, Kenny," she said. She waved her hand at Stan dismissively. "Stan? Can you kind of, I don't now, get out of the way so Kenny can give it a try?"

"Uh, yeah. Okay," Stan said, looking sad and dejected. He shuffled over to the side of the stage while Kenny watched him, smiling wickedly.

Wendy gave Kenny his cue and to absolutely no one's surprise, he strode over to Kyle's side like he was born to be on the stage, his movements smooth and self-assured. He looked at Kyle like he was truly enchanted at the sight of him, and placing a hand on his chest, spoke out in a clear, strong voice:

"Oh! What a beautiful princess! Oh, isn't she the girl I met in the forest? Yes, she is!"

Wendy couldn't help but notice that her heartbeat picked up when she heard Kenny's voice carry across the room, and leaned forward a little, entranced. In a fluid motion, Kenny knelt beside the chaise lounge and took hold of Kyle's hand, kissing it softly before placing it over his own heart. Reaching out, he stroked some wayward curls from Kyle's forehead and gazed at him with adoration, making Wendy almost sigh. Leaning forward, Kenny pressed his lips softly to Kyle's with so much passion that every girl in the place gasped happily at the exact same time. He lingered for a moment, and his hand came up to cup Kyle's chin tenderly, and Wendy had to fight back the urge to start clapping.

In fact, as soon as Kenny had pulled away and looked around the room, his face smug, everyone watching erupted in thunderous applause, and he glanced over at Stan, who was fuming in the wings. Wendy was pretty sure that it went without saying that they'd found their prince; she just hoped that Stan wouldn't have any hard feelings, though she was pretty sure he would.


	5. Chapter 5

"Okay, you two seriously need to sit down and hash this shit out."

Kyle glanced between Stan and Kenny while they both pouted, refusing to look at each other with their arms crossed in a huff. Rolling his eyes, he prayed for strength and waited, because something seriously had to give.

It was yet another Friday night and the three of them had convened for their usual sleepover, but it was impossible to have fun while his two favorite people in the world were feuding. Stan and Kenny had been at odds ever since Kenny had usurped Stan's position as the prince in the school play, and Kyle was absolutely sick to death of hearing about the whole affair. It was just a stupid fucking play; it was time to move on.

Silence continued to reign supreme in the basement as Kyle waited for someone to make an overture, but when no one seemed willing to bend, he sighed and decided drastic measures needed to be taken. Honestly, a vague storm had been brewing for awhile and it was time to get shit out in the open, because he wasn't having a good time anymore, and wasn't this whole thing supposed to be fun? Wasn't that the whole point?

"Fine, I'll start then," he said, not bothering to keep the irritation out of his voice. God, it was like dealing with children sometimes. Kyle cleared his throat and tried to formulate his thoughts. "Stan, I'm sorry."

Stan looked up, surprised.

"Huh?"

"I said I'm sorry, okay?"

Kenny narrowed his eyes, his arms still crossed and his posture tense.

"What the hell do you have to be sorry about, Kyle? Stan's the one who won't get the fuck over not being the prince, even though," he glared at him, "I was clearly the best choice."

"That's not true!" Stan yelled. "I can accept that you're a better actor than me, Kenny, but you don't have to fucking lord the whole thing over me! That's what's pissing me off!"

"Right," Kenny sneered. "I'm so sure it has nothing to do with being jealous as fuck!"

"Now, wait a fucking -"

"Oh, my god, you guys; shut the fuck up!" Kyle yelled, his temper finally reaching its breaking point. They both stared in shock at him, but his outburst was at least effective; they both finally shut the fuck up.

"As I was saying," Kyle continued, "Stan, I'm sorry. Okay?"

"Yeah, you said that, but why?" Stan asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"I was being childish when it came to the whole play thing. I was annoyed that you put me in a weird position and I kind of, I don't know, encouraged a rivalry between you two, and that wasn't fair," Kyle replied, gesturing between Stan and Kenny. "And now we're all at odds and it makes me really sad, because I miss having fun with you guys."

"Oh, come on, Kyle," Kenny said, running a hand through his messy blonde hair. "You can't blame yourself for Stan being butt hurt. He has to take some ownership here."

"Don't start, Kenny," Kyle replied, an edge in his voice. "You know you've been flaunting your victory and pushing it in Stan's face for weeks, and frankly, you're making a douche out of yourself."

Kenny sat back, speechless and gaping at Kyle. Stan just laughed and pointed at him.

"Ha ha, Kyle called you a douche! How do you like them apples?"

"Give it a fucking rest, Stan," Kyle snapped. "You're just as bad as he is, honestly. Instead of just coming right out and saying that Kenny was pissing you off you just pouted and acted like a punk. You should've just told him how you felt, told him to knock it off, and then resolved the issue like a man."

"What do you mean?" Stan asked, equally taken aback at Kyle ripping into him out of nowhere.

"You should've knocked his ass out and then you both could've just gotten all this shit out of your systems," Kyle shrugged, his hands on his hips. "Then we all could've moved on and gotten back to, you know, having fun."

"And by fun you mean fucking, right?" Kenny asked, grinning.

"More or less, yes," Kyle replied, blushing hotly. "But, you know, I think this whole thing goes deeper than some meaningless play; I think this is bringing other shit to the surface."

Stan and Kenny glanced at each other, and a silent understanding seemed to pass between them, though they still looked irritated and closed off. Kyle watched them closely, trying to make sense of their current circumstances.

"Well, am I right?" Kyle asked.

Kenny glanced at him, his dark blue eyes guarded. Stan just looked away, a rigid set to his shoulders; his teeth worrying his bottom lip.

"You guys, what's going on? Let's get everything out in the open so we can work it out," Kyle said, softly. "I mean, I know we're all together or whatever but at the end of the day, aren't we best friends first? We should be able to talk about anything."

"Fine, okay, I'll just say it," Stan burst out suddenly, finally willing to crack a little. "Sometimes I feel jealous of you and Kenny, okay? Satisfied?"

Kyle stared at him, then glanced at Kenny, who had sat back and was regarding Stan; his eyes serious. He sighed, rolling up his sleeves to reveal his tattoo-covered forearms. For a moment, Kyle was distracted by the sight, but he shook his head and focused.

"Okay, if we're going to have a fucking hand holding session I can play along," Kenny said, gruffly. "Sometimes, okay most of the time, I want to have Kyle all to myself. There, I said it."

"I knew it!" Stan said. "Dude, what the fuck?!"

"Can you blame me?" Kenny asked, pointing at Kyle. "He's fucking cute as a button!"

"Well, duh, he's adorable as fuck, but you can't just monopolize him!" Stan replied, his fist clenched around the arm of his chair. "I mean, he's fucking delightful and -"

"Okay, you guys are getting away from the real issue here," Kyle broke in, putting his hands up to silence them. He looked at Kenny. "Kenny, you need to be honest right now; do you actually want to be in a relationship with both of us, or is your," he groped for the right word, "possessive nature going to stop you from being a participant in all of this?"

"Kyle, can you please not talk about this situation like it's an after school club we all joined?" Kenny asked, raising an eyebrow. "You're making it sound creepy."

"Jesus, whatever. Just answer the damn question."

Kenny shrugged.

"I think I can make this work," he said, and then he lapsed into thought. Looking at Stan, he shrugged. "We probably should've talked about this before we approached Kyle, huh? I guess I didn't realize just how deep my feelings went."

"I get that, dude," Stan said, and suddenly he looked more like his old self; open and willing to compromise. "I think we're both coming to terms with how we feel about Kyle, but you should've just told me. If there's anyone who understands how you feel about him," he pointed to Kyle, "it's me."

Kenny grinned. "That's for sure; you've loved him since we were just stupid little kids."

"So have you," Stan replied, smiling too. "Look, I know this is new territory for all of us, so there was bound to be friction, but I honestly really like being with you guys, it makes me feel safe."

"Me, too," Kyle piped up. "I like that we can all love each other and, you know, express it physically or whatever. I just don't want any secrets or animosity coming between our friendship because, really, that needs to be the foundation for this whole thing."

Kenny looked at both of them, and some of the tension seemed to flow out of his stance. He rubbed his hands together, the sound filling the silence in the room. Kyle was grateful that now the quiet was comfortable instead of feeling heavy; this was the atmosphere that was created when you were with people who loved each other.

"So, what's the verdict here," Kyle asked. "Can we all get the fuck over ourselves and handle our shit and be honest? Because if not, I'm calling it quits right here before we do irreversible damage."

"What do you think, Kenny?" Stan asked, glancing at him with an open face, devoid of pretense.

"I think I can make this work, even though I'll always think of Kyle as being my princess," Kenny grinned. "And I'm sorry for, you know, making you look like an ass during play rehearsals. I was being an asshole," he said, kicking at the carpet; suddenly bashful. Kyle smirked; Kenny wasn't really one for apologies and impromptu therapy sessions. "It's going to be hard, but I'll be more upfront with stuff going forward. I mean, there's a reason why I approached you about being with Kyle instead of just trying to get with him on my own," Kenny continued. "I didn't want to screw this up, you know?" He gestured to the three of them. "I guess I just jumped into the situation without thinking of the ramifications, but now I can deal with them."

"Now we all can, I guess," Stan replied. "This is a sexy learning experience for all of us. So, are we cool?"

"Of course we are, man," Kenny replied, holding up his fist so they could bump. "It's a process, but we'll figure this shit out together."

"Great! Now that that's settled, what's on the agenda for tonight?" Kyle asked, clapping his hands together.

Kenny glanced at Stan, who looked like he was pretty much ready for anything.

"I kind of want to get hammered and then, you know, get to fucking," Kenny said, slowly. "What do you think, man?" He cocked an eyebrow at Stan.

"I think that's a perfect idea," Stan replied. "But, here's the thing..." He trailed off, looking at Kyle and smiling slyly.

"What?" Kyle asked, concerned but intrigued at the look in Stan's eyes.

"Can you wear your costume for us, from the play?" Stan asked, grinning wickedly.

Kenny sat up immediately, practically salivating. "Yes! Oh, my god, fucking yes! That would make my goddamn life, you guys."

"Well, sure, I guess," Kyle said. "But, I have to ask, because this is seriously overdue; why are you guys so hellbent on turning me into a girl?"

"We don't want to turn you into a girl," Stan replied, rolling his eyes. "We just like to play up your cute, feminine qualities, as well as your natural tendency to be difficult and contrary. Right, Kenny?"

"Yep, I meant it when I called you a spitfire, Kyle. You're feisty but you're pretty, and while you look cute in pretty much anything, fluffy, girly stuff suits you best."

"But you still like me just as I am, right? I'm not just some weird fantasy for you, am I?"

"You're a fantasy and a wonderful reality, dude. Duh," Stan replied. "Besides, I thought we were done exploring our feelings. Let's get fucking blasted and get our rocks off; I seriously need it."

"Now you're starting to sound like Kenny," Kyle replied, standing up.

"Oh, and is that a bad thing?" Kenny asked, standing as well. He went to his backpack and started pulling out bottles of liquor; Malibu Black, Knob Creek, and a bottle of gin. "Let's get this shit started." He glanced up at Kyle. "Well?"

Kyle raised his eyebrows. "Well?"

"Dude, the dress. Move your ass," Kenny replied, pulling out a couple of joints too. "Time's a-wasting."

"Jesus, fine."

As the night passed, the three of them made up for lost time by taking shots, listening to music, and just becoming completely loose; love and affection flowing as freely as the booze that filled their glasses. Initially, Kyle had protested when Kenny insisted he take a shot of Malibu.

"You know that shit makes me rage," Kyle said, studying the amber fluid.

"That's the point, dude. I like when your fire comes out, now drink," Kenny replied, pushing the glass into his hand.

"Chug! Chug! Chug!" Stan called out, already three sheets to the wind.

"Well, here goes nothing," Kyle muttered, and he tipped the shot glass back, hissing as the liquor burned down his throat; his eyes shut tight. After a moment, he opened them and blinked some tears away; grinning at Stan and Kenny. "There, happy?"

"Oh, yeah," Kenny said, pulling Kyle down onto his lap. "God, you look too fucking cute for me to even deal with."

"It's actually comfier than I thought it would be," Kyle replied, staring down at the dress and lifting up the delicate white fabric in one hand; the skirt flowed through his fingers and almost felt watery to the touch. The dress had an empire waist and puffy sleeves, the back gathered into a frilly bow with an impossibly long sash. Kyle giggled when he felt Kenny yank on the sash, slowly making the bow come undone.

"You're missing something though," Stan said, plucking something from the table and handing it over; Kyle's red heart-shaped sunglasses.

"Dude, it's nighttime and we're in the basement," Kyle replied, his belly warm from the booze. He accepted the glasses anyway and placed them on his head so they were holding his bangs back. "Hey, Kenny, can I get another shot?"

"Coming right up," Kenny said, lifting the bottle and tipping some Malibu into Kyle's glass. "There you are, m'lady."

"Oh, Jesus, don't even," Kyle replied, even though he was flushed and smiling stupidly.

"You guys, shut the fuck up for a second," Stan said, suddenly; holding up his hands. "This is the best part of the song and I want to hear it."

They all lapsed into silence as Snoop Dogg filled up the air, rapping about fat chains and cracking glasses. Stan grinned and leaned back until he was lying on the floor. "I seriously can't get enough of this song."

"This song is great, Stan, but we've been listening to it for like 3 hours; this is the last time," Kyle said, knocking the Malibu back.

"I thought you liked the Gorillaz," Kenny said, drinking gin like it was water; the burn barely registering on his face.

"I do, I just get tired of listening to the same song over and over. You guys always do this when we drink; you get stuck on the same 1 or 2 songs and then we end up listening to them for the entire night."

"Whatever, it's not like we're even going to be paying attention to the music before too long," Kenny murmured, pressing his lips against the back of Kyle's neck and making him shiver. His hands slid underneath his dress and he sucked in his breath. "Dude, are you naked under this thing?"

"Maybe," Kyle replied, leaning back and licking some gin from Kenny's lips.

"That's seriously hot," Stan said, crawling over. His hand snaked under Kyle's dress too, his cool fingers squeezing the pale thigh underneath. He came perilously close to touching Kyle's cock when suddenly the door to the basement opened up and Mrs. Broflovski was calling down the stairs, making all three of them jump.

"Kyle, Eric is here for your sleepover," she said, her voice falling on them like heavy bricks. They all groaned.

"Fucking seriously?" Kenny muttered, close to Kyle's ear. "What's he doing here?"

"I don't know, it's not like I invited him," Kyle seethed, scooting off of Kenny's lap; Stan's hand still resting on his leg.

In a moment, Cartman was thundering down the stairs, holding a backpack and a sleeping bag.

"Sup, fags?" He said, setting down his stuff, his eyes falling on Kyle immediately. "Dude, what the fuck are you wearing?"

Kyle clenched his fists around the material of his skirt, crushing it; the Malibu was truly in his blood now, and he could feel his anger rising already.

"Cartman, just what the fuck do you think you're doing here?" He asked, his teeth gritted. "You weren't invited, and you know it."

"I thought it was an open invitation," Cartman replied, shrugging. He plopped down on the floor, continuing to stare at Kyle. "No, but seriously, why the hell are you wearing a dress?" He glanced at Stan and Kenny. "You guys are making him dress up for you now?"

"If you must know, that's his costume for the play," Stan snapped, his hand lingering on Kyle's leg and squeezing it reassuringly. "Kyle's playing sleeping beauty."

"Of fucking course he is," Cartman said, rolling his eyes. "Why wouldn't he be?" He crawled over then, his eyes narrowed and full of malice. "And you're wearing those stupid glasses again? Jesus, you are so fucking weird, dude."

Kyle bit back some of his rage even though it was becoming harder to control. Now he was glad he drank Malibu, it made him feel less timid, even in the face of a massive size difference. Who the fuck did Cartman think he was, coming over uninvited and then insulting him? They were fucking having fun and now he was going to ruin it, just like Wendy's party.

"Cartman, just get the fuck out, okay?" Kyle seethed, his hands still clenching his dress. "We don't want you here and frankly, I'm fed up with your bullshit. I don't have to sit here and just let you insult me."

"I'm just trying to understand, I guess," Cartman said, coming closer. Kyle could feel Stan and Kenny tensing up around him. "I mean, everyone is talking about your weird arrangement and it just seemed to come out of nowhere, and here you are dressing up like a girl. What kind of crack are you guys smoking?"

"Jesus, didn't you learn your lesson when I fucking knocked you on your ass at Wendy's party, Cartman?" Stan asked, incredulously. "Like, seriously, what is your deal? It's like you want me to whale on you."

"Hey, I'm still a part of this group, aren't I?" Cartman asked. "What, are you just kicking me out?"

"We are if you can't fucking be decent," Kenny replied, wrapping an arm around Kyle's waist.

"You guys, he's never been decent. I've been saying that for years," Kyle said, his words a little slurred. "So, yeah, I guess we are kicking you out, Cartman, because you'll never change. It's your own fucking fault." He pointed toward the door. "Now, get your shit and get out."

Cartman's face reddened with fury, but he shrugged, clearly knowing he wasn't wanted.

"Fine, if you say so, but first," he reached out and yanked the sunglasses from Kyle's hair. "I'm taking a souvenir with me. Na na na na na na!"

"Fucking bloody hell, not this bullshit again," Kyle said, and now the rage was out in full force; there was really no going back now. Standing, he smoothed down his skirt and wobbled a little, the Malibu knocking him off balance but making him feel almost impervious to threats or damage. "Okay, Cartman; sack up. Let's go," he slurred, holding up his fists.

"Kyle, what are you doing?" Kenny asked, tugging on the back of Kyle's dress.

"Yeah, seriously, Kyle; I don't think this is a very good idea," Stan chimed in, also holding onto his dress.

"You should listen to them, Kyle," Cartman sneered, holding up the glasses just like he'd done at the party; his stupid, smarmy face smug. "Aren't you going to let them protect you like the princess you are?"

Kyle glared at him while simultaneously shaking Stan and Kenny's hands from his skirt.

"I've got this, you guys," he said. "You don't need to fight all my battles for me."

"Oh, is that so?" Cartman jeered. "Well, I've still got your glasses, Kyle; so what are you going to do? Na na na na na na."

"Oh, my god, I fucking hate it when you do that, Cartman. I hated it when we were kids and I sure as hell hate it now!"

"Like I care," he replied, still holding the glasses up high. "Well, come and get them, na na n-"

In a flash, Kyle's arm shot out, his palm open and connecting with Cartman's face, knocking him backward; completely surprising him and throwing him off balance. With a screech, Cartman dropped the glasses as his hand flew to his nose, fresh red blood streaming from his nostrils and pouring down his front. Some of it sprayed onto the front of Kyle's dress, spattering up the bodice and making him look like an avenging warrior princess, fresh from the battlefield. Deftly, he scooped up his glasses.

"Now, get the fuck out of here, Cartman," he said, placing the glasses back on his head. "You can come back when you learn to play nice, though I doubt that'll ever happen."

"What the fuck?!" Cartman continued to screech, his voice taking on the quality of a shrieking harpy. He looked through his splayed fingers, the blood still sliding from his nose. "I think you broke my fucking nose!"

Kyle shrugged woozily. "Okay, and? You came over to fight, I just gave you what you wanted." He turned to look at Stan and Kenny, who were just staring at him in utter shock, their mouths wide open. "I've been studying self defense techniques since Cartman fucked with me at the party. See? I told you you don't always have to fight my battles?"

They both just nodded, completely floored.

Kyle turned back to Cartman and waved toward the door, essentially dismissing him. "Well? There's the door; use it." He thought a second. "What did Holly Golightly say in Breakfast at Tiffany's? Oh, yeah. It should take you exactly four seconds to cross from here to that door. I'll give you two." Kyle grabbed up Kenny's discarded shot glass full of gin and knocked it back, grimacing. "Yep, I stand by that, now move."

Sniffling and whining, Cartman gathered up his stuff and traipsed up the steps and after a moment, the door shut behind him. Now Childish Gambino filled up the quiet he left behind, saying something about his dick being an accent mark. Kyle grinned and turned to face Stan and Kenny.

"So, where were we?" He asked.

"Dude, what the actual fuck?" Stan whispered. "Seriously, what did we just watch?"

Kyle shrugged. "I told you Malibu makes me rage; it's not like I was kidding. Besides, that shit was a long time coming."

Kenny let out a long breath, his eyes still wide, but now his face was flushed too. His eyes traveled over Kyle, taking in his pink cheeks and blood-spattered gown.

"I've seriously never been more turned on," he finally said.

"Why is it that doesn't surprise me?" Kyle remarked, smirking.

Reaching out, Kenny took hold of Kyle's skirt and drew him forward, Stan leaning his head on his shoulder and watching with shining eyes. Scooping up handfuls of material, Kenny lifted the gown, making it possible for he and Stan to admire the delights underneath; Kyle's pale legs and swiftly stiffening cock.

"Oh, yeah. I like that," Kenny murmured. "Stan, can you grab the lube out of my bag? We're gonna need it."

"Sure thing," Stan replied, rummaging in Kenny's bag. "Got it." He held it up, shaking it a little and grinning.

"Perfect," Kenny said. "Will you do the honors?"

"Is that a real question?" Stan asked, coming over and pouring the lube onto his fingers. Once they were slick, he slid them into Kyle's tight opening, making him gasp and throw his head back, feeling wonderfully tipsy and warm; really, very satisfied even though they'd barely started. Stan's fingers opened him up slowly, preparing him for what was to come until Kyle was positively drooling. Kenny groaned when Stan prepared him as well, wrapping his lubed-up hand around him; kissing his lips lightly, both of them sporting cheeky grins.

"Mm, come here," Kenny murmured, still holding up Kyle's skirt. Gently he pulled him forward and guided him so Kyle was straddling his lap, Kenny's cock poised beneath him, already glistening with pre-cum. Stan slid a hand under Kyle's chin and raised his face so he could kiss his lips as Kyle sunk all the way down Kenny's length, little gasps escaping his mouth in between deep, wet kisses.

"How does that feel, hmm? You like that?" Kenny asked, sliding his hands underneath Kyle's gown so he could hold his hips, lifting him up slowly as Kyle clung to him, his hands resting behind Kenny's neck. Wordlessly, he nodded, too overcome by the wonderful sensation of being so achingly full; so full of heat that fire was coursing through his blood. Pushing down on his knees, Kyle lifted himself up, wanting to increase the pace; needing to create more of that delicious friction that took his breath away.

Kenny moaned at Kyle's enthusiasm, flicking his hips up so he could match Kyle's rhythm. Stan continued to kiss Kyle's gasping mouth, his arm resting around his waist so he could help Kyle stay upright as Kenny fucked him; all three of them engulfed in one another and taken over by being together again. Kyle was filled with euphoria at the moment, from the booze, from knocking Cartman the fuck out, from being filled with Kenny's cock while Stan lavished him with hot kisses; really, he couldn't have been happier than he was in that moment.

Later, as they lay on the floor, nestled in blankets and warm from sex and cuddling, Kyle found himself still drifting through a feeling of peace and calm that only came about in times like these. He was still dressed in his gown but now it wasn't just smattered with Cartman's blood (oh, the sweet spoils of war!), no, now it was also dripping with come, which also made him immensely satisfied. He watched idly as Stan and Kenny kissed a little, Kenny's fingers running through Stan's hair while Stan sported Kyle's heart-shaped glasses and looking fucking good enough to eat, and he felt so filled with love that he could barely stand it. He couldn't say for sure that all of their fences were mended at this point, but at least they would all work together to cultivate an atmosphere of acceptance and affection. In times of doubt, their friendship would see them through, because, really, that's what it all came down to.

Wanting to get in on the warmth, Kyle leaned forward and licked along Stan's cock, making him moan and turn away from Kenny's gin-flavored kisses; the sunglasses reflecting Kyle's wide eyes and sex-flushed face. Kyle licked him until he was hard, and he smiled.

"Sorry, I was feeling a little left out, I guess," he said, his pink tongue drifting along Stan's length.

"Well, we can't have that, can we?" Kenny asked, winding one of Kyle's red curls around his finger lovingly. "After all, aren't we all in this together?"


	6. Chapter 6

Notes: Hey everyone! Long time no see! I had a lot of fun writing this chapter, lol. I wanted to have like an autumn halloween-y edition so hopefully I achieved that. Anyway, I hope everyone enjoys! 3

"It figures we would have a cold snap right after we decided to go camping," Kyle griped, his hands gripped around a red cup; his breath streaming out of his mouth in cloudy puffs. "Now we're going to be freezing our asses off all night."

"Trust me, we won't let you freeze, Kyle," Kenny replied, his voice fond. Standing, he inspected the tent he'd been working to put up for the past twenty minutes. "So, what do you think?"

"I think that thing is too small for all three of us," Kyle replied, turning his nose up a little.

Kenny smirked and shook his head a little. His tempestuous little spitfire. He was already in a mood, no doubt from the frosty autumn weather and just his general disagreeable temperament. Walking over, he sat on the log next to Kyle and rested his hand on his thigh, squeezing softly.

"Are you going to share that?" He asked, pointing at Kyle's Tweak Brother's cup. "It sure smells good."

Kyle groaned a little and took another sip, his cheeks rosy in the dying autumn sunlight falling through the trees and dappling the forest floor.

"Do I have to?" He asked, pursing his lips a little. "You know I look forward to this drink every year; it's my favorite."

Rolling his eyes, Kenny reached out and took the cup and brought it to his lips. Drinking deeply, he ignored Kyle's protests, relishing in the caramel apple flavors flooding his mouth.

"You know, you're two steps away from being a basic bitch. Did you know that?" He asked, smacking his lips a little and offering Kyle the cup, who quickly snatched it away with a frown. "I mean, all we have to do is throw some Uggs and yoga pants on you and you'll be all set for your next pumpkin spice latte."

"I fucking hate pumpkin-flavored stuff," Kyle snapped, sinking further into his fluffy white coat; a blush rising from his throat. "And I'm hardly basic, Kenny. Look who's talking."

Kenny looked down at himself, at his work-roughened hands with the short fingernails, stubborn grease resting in the cracks of his skin no matter how often he scrubbed with lava soap, at his plaid shirt visible under his heavy orange parka, and couldn't help but laugh. Pushing his sleeves up to reveal his riot of tattoos, he peered at Kyle and smirked derisively.

"Right, I'm the basic one here. I guess I just forgot," he teased, reaching out and tweaking one of Kyle's scarlet curls.

Kyle was looking absolutely fetching that particular day in late October, and Kenny couldn't help but feel a curl of desire blooming deep in his belly. His little spitfire was wearing his white coat, the one that made him resemble a fluffy little polar bear, skinny jeans, his heart-shaped sunglasses (pushed off his face and holding back his bangs, of course), and his most obstinate expression. Kenny's heart sped up its rhythm when a wayward shaft of sunlight fell across Kyle's face and illuminated his grass-green irises and called to attention his sweet dusting of cinnamon-colored freckles.

"You know, you're even more adorable when you act like a brat," he commented. "Besides, we'll build a fire here before too long and that'll warm you up. Why don't you gather up some kindling or something?"

Grimacing, Kyle looked around their campsite, at the multitude of fallen branches and smatterings of dead leaves everywhere.

"I thought Stan was doing that," he said, tilting his head a little; the sunlight glinting off the candy-colored rims of his sunglasses. "Where is he, anyway?"

"I was taking a leak," Stan answered, walking back into the site and cocking an eyebrow at him. Glancing at Kenny, he flashed him a smile. "You got the tent up, dude. It looks great."

"Thanks, man," Kenny replied, grinning. Gesturing at Kyle, he rolled his eyes indulgently. "Kyle's been working on his drink, so his contributions have been staggering."

"Figures," Stan said, coming over and dropping a kiss on Kyle's curly head. "You're still in a mood, huh?"

"I'm not in a mood!" Kyle snapped, shivering a little. "I'm just cold. Why couldn't we just spend the night in my basement again? It's tradition!"

"Don't start," Kenny interjected, beginning to gather up wood on his own. "You didn't want to go to Wendy's Halloween party so we all agreed to go camping instead. You can't back out now just because the weather isn't perfect."

Stan took a deep breath and looked around, the sunlight pouring its brilliance over him and making his dark hair gleam like crow's feathers. Opening his arms, he sighed happily as he allowed the sunshine to embrace him.

"I don't know what you guys are talking about," he said. "I think this weather is amazing. I love when it finally turns and you can feel the frost in the air, you know? And I don't know how to explain it, there's just something about autumn sunshine; it feels different at this time of year."

"God, here we go with Stan's whimsical soliloquies," Kyle groused, shivering a little more when a breeze passed through and ruffled his hair.

"No, I know exactly what you mean, man," Kenny said, nodding his head slowly. "And have you noticed the sky seems bluer at this time of year, too? This is the perfect time to go camping, regardless of what spitfire has to say."

"Must you always call me that?" Kyle asked, setting his empty cup aside and finally standing; short stature deliciously encased in prickles and fluffy cuteness.

"Hey, I'm just calling a spade a spade," Kenny replied. "You're in rare form today, might I add."

Kyle sighed and reluctantly leaned down to help gather up sticks.

"I'm sorry, guys," he said. "I guess I just have a lot on my mind."

"Oh?" Stan asked, blue eyes blazing with the stirrings of concern. "What's wrong?"

"Let me guess, it's Cartman?" Kenny asked, irritation pulsing through him just at the sound of that name. "He's the reason you didn't want to go to the party, right?"

"More or less," Kyle replied, voice a little muffled as he continued to scavenge sticks. "But there's more on my mind than that."

"Well, speak on it, man," Kenny said, watching as Kyle daintily picked up the cleanest, smallest sticks he could find; he found himself smiling almost without thinking about it.

"Yeah, dude, get it off your chest. We're all friends here, aren't we?" Stan asked, smiling tenderly as well. They were such a pair of sentimental fools when it came to their little redhead, it would seem.

Another shard of sunlight lit up Kyle's red curls when he strayed a little further away, still diligently scouting for firewood, and now Kenny's mouth was watering. It was crazy, any little thing that called attention to Kyle's adorable attributes just did something to his heart; it's almost like he had no control over the way his body reacted. Glancing over, he noticed Stan watching him closely as well, his heart in his eyes.

"Well, my mom's just been on my ass lately," Kyle said, drawing closer with an armful of sticks that he dropped next to the fire pit.

"Yeah, and what else is new?" Kenny asked, picking up a huge slab of wood and hauling it over to the pit as well. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Kyle watching him closely and he made sure to flex a little as he dropped it close to Kyle's smaller pile.

"Dude, your mom's always on your ass," Stan chimed in, gathering up the matches and lighter fluid.

"You aren't going to use that, are you?" Kyle asked, pointing at the can. "I hate the way that stuff smells."

"Do you want a fire or not?" Stan asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Of course I do, I just don't want to burn down half the forest, Stan."

Snickering, Kenny couldn't help but throw in his own two cents.

"Our raging passion will ignite the forest before a little campfire will, Kyle."

"Oh, save it, Kenny," Kyle replied, rolling his eyes heavenward. "Is there ever a moment you aren't being a pervert."

Kenny made a big display of thinking before finally shaking his head.

"Nope, I'm a perv through and through. What about you, Stan?"

"Oh, naturally," Stan replied, leering wolfishly at Kyle, who just looked totally done with this conversation.

"Are you fuckers going to start the fire or not?" He snapped, crossing his arms.

"You've already started a fire in my pants," Kenny quipped, and Stan busted out laughing.

"Okay, I'm done with you two. Call me when the fucking fire is ready," Kyle said, throwing up his hands and stalking out of the campsite.

"Huh, he's certainly in a mood," Stan commented as they both watched Kyle stomp away, his hands clenched into tiny fists at his sides.

"Is it wrong for me to think he's even cuter when he's being super uptight?" Kenny asked, stacking the wood into a pile. "Because I seriously do, dude; like, I could fucking eat him up."

Stan snickered and helped Kenny stack wood. Grinning, Kenny couldn't help but think of the conversation they'd had in Kyle's basement a couple weeks prior, when they'd all hashed out their bullshit and gotten some secrets out in the open. It was true that Kenny still felt exceptionally possessive of Kyle, but he was actually really happy that they'd talked a few things out; he just hoped that he and Stan could continue to be cool with one another. Kyle was right, they were all best friends first, and there was no way he wanted to disrupt that, no matter how much he loved his little spitfire.

"Kenny? You okay?" Stan asked, pulling him from his thoughts.

Kenny shook his head and stood, brushing a hand through his hair, which could seriously use a cut but he'd been putting it off. Kyle had made an offhand comment about liking it long, so he was kind of reluctant to have it trimmed.

"Yeah, I'm cool," Kenny replied, watching as Stan doused the wood with some lighter fluid. "I was just thinking about that little therapy session we all had a couple weeks back."

"Oh, the one where Kyle called us both douche bags? Yeah, that was great," Stan replied, striking a match now. He threw it on the wood and they both stepped back a little when a fireball tore upward, pushing their hair back.

"Damn, I wish Kyle had been here to see that," Kenny commented. "Oh, and he called you a punk, by the way; not a douche bag. I was the douche bag, apparently."

"I can see that," Stan replied, wryly.

"You ass," Kenny said, but he grinned. "Anyway, I guess I'm just kind of glad that we actually talked some shit out, you know?"

"Yeah," Stan agreed. He glanced at Kenny curiously. "You really love Kyle, don't you?"

Kenny nodded his head, feeling suddenly shy at such a direct question; his hand coming up to rub his neck.

"Yeah, I do. Like, a lot. I think he's really smart and cute and..." He trailed off, feeling ridiculous.

"That's how I feel too," Stan said, kicking at the ground. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure, what's up?" Kenny asked, going and sitting on the log again. Idly, he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and offered one to Stan, who declined.

"I was just wondering, when did you know that you, you know, loved Kyle? You never told me," Stan asked, sitting across from him and watching as Kenny took a long drag; blue smoke filtering from his mouth.

Kenny shrugged, having to think for a moment. How could he really pinpoint when he'd fallen in love with Kyle? It felt like he'd just woken up one morning and the redhead had just taken up permanent residence inside of his heart, like he'd always been there.

"God, I'm not exactly sure," Kenny said, bringing his cigarette to his lips again. "I guess it wasn't just one event, it was more like a culmination of things."

"Oh?" Stan asked, picking up a leaf and twirling it around.

"Yeah, I mean, we both know that Kyle has an attitude and he can be completely inflexible, but that's part of the reason I love him so much. He uses his stubbornness to help other people, and he isn't afraid to stand up for the underdog. I think that's pretty cool, you know?"

Stan nodded, his blue eyes darkening a little with understanding.

"Yeah, I know exactly what you mean. Like, the things that drive me crazy about him also make me love him. It doesn't make a whole lot of sense."

"Love usually doesn't," Kenny grinned, blowing a couple of smoke rings. "Like, Kyle never made a big deal about me having less money than the other kids. If he saw that I didn't have lunch or whatever, he'd just hand me a sandwich or an apple or something, like it wasn't a big deal; like he didn't need to make a big show that he was helping. I thought that was decent."

"Yeah, he kind of just takes you as you are," Stan said, shredding the leaf into little pieces. "I mean, he'll bitch at you if he doesn't like something you're doing, but at the end of the day he accepts you."

"Now that we've had this impromptu outpouring of our most embarrassing bullshit, can I ask you a question?" Kenny asked, pointing his cigarette in Stan's direction; clouds of smoke wafting upward toward the swiftly darkening sky.

"Sure, yeah."

"Are you still jealous of Kyle and me?"

Stan grinned a little.

"See, if Kyle were here he'd be on your ass about your grammar," he snickered. Pursing his lips, he mimicked Kyle's high-pitched tone when he was correcting someone. "Actually, I think you mean 'Kyle and I', Kenny."

"Yep, that's our little pedant," Kenny laughed, stubbing out his cigarette. "So?"

Stan shrugged, a pensive look crossing his face.

"Sometimes, I guess. It's not as bad as it was, though. He just seems to respond to you in a special way. It's hard to explain."

Kenny snorted.

"Yeah, okay, Stan. You two have this fucking unbreakable bond that I could never even hope to come close to. I wouldn't worry if I were you."

"I'll try not to," Stan replied, running his fingers through his hair and smiling softly. "It's just hard."

"That's what she said."

"See? That's why Kyle is always getting mad at us, dude," Stan laughed, reaching over and punching Kenny's arm softly. "When the fuck are we ever going to grow up?"

"Hopefully never," Kenny said, reaching up and kissing Stan's cheek softly, taking him by surprise. He laughed to see a carnation pink blush seeping across Stan's face.

"Sorry, I just didn't expect that," Stan said, continuing to blush while touching his face where Kenny had kissed him.

"I love you, too, by the way," Kenny said, starting to blush as well.

"I know," Stan said, and now his face was positively beet red. "I, uh, I -" he broke off, starting to stammer.

Kenny held his hand up, feeling merciful and amused because he'd completely blindsided Stan; someone who was notoriously bashful and awkward when it came to matters of the heart.

"It's cool, dude. You don't need to say it." Standing, he stretched out his back and sighed to feel the tiny pops running up his spine. "Come on, let's go find Kyle so he can sit his ass by the fire and stop complaining about being cold."

It was hours later and the fire was still going strong, the flames leaping up and crawling toward the navy blue sky; silver stars fanning out in droves and feeling almost close enough to touch. Stan watched with amusement as Kyle sat across from him, his hands clutching a stick that had a fluffy marshmallow on the end. He was holding it into the fire with reluctance, his entire stature suggesting that he was waiting for it to ignite any moment.

"Why do you look so concerned, dude?" he asked propping his head in his hand and feeling a weird sort of tenderness for his fussy ginger.

"I just don't want to end up with a burned marshmallow," Kyle said, watching his confection closely. "I hate when they're burned; it's sickening."

"I like burned marshmallows," Kenny said, his mouth stuffed full of s'mores. "If you fuck it up I'll eat it."

"Great, I'll keep that in mind," Kyle replied, turning his nose up. "But I have no intention of -"

"Whoop, there it goes," Stan spoke up, watching as Kyle's marshmallow melted off the stick and plopped into the fire.

"Goddammit!" Kyle yelled, pulling his stick back and staring at it with fury. "God, I fucking hate camping!"

"Whoa, relax, dude," Stan said, reaching next to him and plucking up another marshmallow. He held it out to Kyle, who continued to fume. "Here, try again."

Kyle snatched the marshmallow up and impaled it on his stick, his eyes narrowed.

"Why the fuck not?" He snapped. "Get ready, Kenny. I'll probably burn the fuck out of this one too."

"Dude, chill," Kenny said, putting an arm around him. "What's your deal tonight? You're even more on edge than normal."

Kyle sighed and slowly poked the stick into the fire, leaning against Kenny and resting his head on his shoulder.

"I'm just feeling pressured, I guess," he finally said.

"Don't pull a Tweek on us, dude. Let this shit out," Stan said, wrapping his arms around himself. The fire was drenching him in pleasant heat, but his back was cold; the stirrings of a Colorado autumn putting a nip in the air.

"Like I said, it's my mom," Kyle said. "She's just been riding me about my future and stuff."

"Jesus Christ, of course," Kenny said, picking up a marshmallow as well and putting it on his stick. "What's her deal?"

"Well, she really wants me to be a doctor," Kyle said, pulling his stick out of the fire and inspecting the lightly toasted marshmallow. After a moment, he poked it back into the flames, his brow furrowed.

"How fucking cliche can she be?" Stan asked, rolling his eyes. After a moment, a thought occurred to him. "That raises an interesting point, though. How come so many doctors are Jewish?"

"Because their mothers are," Kyle replied, without skipping a beat.

"Yeah, but do you want to be a doctor?" Kenny asked, slapping his marshmallow on a slab of chocolate.

"Not really," Kyle replied, his face becoming pensive. "I really don't know what I want to be." Glancing at Kenny, he cocked an eyebrow. "Do you?"

"Sure, man," Kenny replied, wiping wayward chocolate from his face and grinning. "I want to be a sexy auto mechanic. I'd look under your hood anytime, Kyle," he said, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Give me a fucking break," Kyle replied, but now he was actually smiling; his green eyes glimmering and reflecting the orange flames. He looked at Stan, and now both of his eyebrows were raised. "What about you, Stan?"

Stan thought a moment, his mind whirring with possible answers but none of them really felt right. Finally, he shrugged helplessly.

"Honestly? I'm not even there yet. I kind of thought I'd figure that shit out after I went to college."

"That's what I'd like to do, but you know how my mom is," Kyle said, sighing.

"Boy, do we," Kenny said, pulling a bottle out of a bag near the fire. "Anyone up for some Jim Beam? It's tradition, after all."

"Who says?" Kyle asked, watching as Kenny screwed the top off and took a long swig.

"Me," Kenny said, smacking his lips and wiping a hand across his mouth. Grinning, he offered the bottle to Stan. "What do you say, man? It'll put some hair on your chest."

"He's already hairy enough," Kyle commented, his eyes lingering on the bottle as Stan accepted it.

"This shit is like drinking fucking battery acid, Kenny," he said, taking a long pull as well. Grimacing, the fire became a watercolor mess as his eyes watered against the burn.

"Yeah, isn't it great?" Kenny smiled, taking the bottle back. "What do you say?" He asked, holding out the bottle to Kyle who eyed it with distaste.

"Do you have any Malibu?" He asked.

"Sure. It's just a shame that Cartman isn't around," Kenny snickered, fishing a bottle of Malibu out of the bag. "It was fucking classic when you knocked that motherfucker out."

"Yeah, that was awesome," Stan laughed, enjoying the burn of the alcohol in his belly and watching Kyle and Kenny illuminated by the flames. He brushed a hand across his cheek where Kenny had kissed him, and for whatever reason he felt his heartbeat pick up just a tad.

"That asshole had it coming," Kyle said, taking a delicate sip of the rum. "I wish he would just fucking leave me alone, already. I mean, god, he's been terrorizing me since pre-school. When is he going to give it a rest?"

"Probably never," Stan said, accepting the Jim Bean when Kenny handed it to him again. Taking a drink, he almost gagged at the way the alcohol burning sliding down his throat. "Honestly, Kyle, I seriously think Cartman wants to, well -" he broke off, not sure how to finish that statement.

"Dude wants to fuck you, Kyle. Plain and simple," Kenny volunteered, taking another drink himself and pulling Kyle closer. "I mean, it's so fucking obvious."

"Okay, that's just fucking creepy," Kyle shivered, taking another drink of Malibu. "I couldn't even imagine Cartman naked, let alone, you know..."

"Bumping uglies?" Stan asked, starting to feel the alcohol seeping into his blood and making him loose. "Dude, that would be so unbelievably gross."

"Yeah, that is seriously not at the top of my fantasies, that's for sure," Kenny said, a disgusted look crossing his face.

"We know what your fantasies involve, Kenny," Kyle said, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah, spit-roasting you and making you beg for more," Kenny laughed, nuzzling Kyle's cheek.

"I'm about to leave again," Kyle snapped, his voice a little slurred; the bottle of Malibu clutched in his hand.

"Dude, lighten up, already," Stan said. "Here, I brought my guitar. Why don't I sing you two a little ditty?" Standing, he staggered through the darkness outside the fire's light; groping for his guitar among their pile of bags.

"Jesus, if you fucking sing Wonderwall, I'm leaving," Kenny piped up.

"Put a sock in it, dude," Stan replied, coming back to the ring of fire with his guitar in his hands. Stumbling a little, he sat and started tuning it. "So, what would you two assholes like to hear?"

Kyle thought a moment, his finger tapping away at his bottom lip.

"Hmm, how about silence?" He asked.

"Oh, so you want a little Simon and Garfunkel action, huh?" Stan asked, deliberately misunderstanding. Holding up the instrument, he strummed the strings. "Okay, the Sound of Silence it is, then."

"Oh, Lord," Kenny said, taking another long drink. "It's going to be a long fucking night."

Hours later, the fire was finally starting to dwindle as the three of them sang Elton John, their voices completely off-key and slurred from copious amounts of alcohol. Laughing, Stan stopped playing for a moment and pointed at Kyle, who was practically sitting in Kenny's lap and kissing his neck.

"See? I told you a little music would help you stop from freaking out, dude."

"Mm, I guess so," Kyle said, his voice thick from Malibu and the weed that Kenny had brought out. "I'm still fucking sad, though."

"Why?" Kenny asked, threading his hand through Kyle's hair and turning his head so he could kiss his mouth.

"Because I'm just worried about when we graduate," Kyle said, sighing into Kenny's kiss and resting his head against his cheek. "Like, I'm really going to miss doing stuff like this. Won't you?"

A thread of melancholy wove its way through Stan's mind at these words, and he strummed the strings of his guitar; the sound echoing off the trees and fading into the forest looming around them.

"Dude, why the fuck did you need to bring that up?" He asked, taking another shot of Jim Beam.

"Right? Quit being a buzzkill, spitfire," Kenny said, squeezing Kyle's thigh and making him moan a little as he cuddled him close.

"I'm not trying to be, you guys," he said, pressing a kiss to Kenny's temple. "I'm just trying to be realistic, you know? I want to be prepared."

"Fuck being prepared," Kenny said, hugging him tighter. "Let's just focus on the here and now."

"You're always like that, Kenny," Kyle frowned, pushing away from him a little. "You never -"

"No, he's right," Stan interrupted, a suddenly unbearable sadness coursing through his blood and making the revelry of the night start to fall away. "Let's just think about tonight, okay? I mean, we're here, it's a beautiful night, we're drunk and high, I can fucking shred this guitar...let's just be happy in the moment, like Kenny said."

"Hear, hear!" Kenny said, holding up the bottle of Jim Beam in one hand and crushing Kyle against his side. Jostling him, he looked down at Kyle and grinned. "What do you say?"

"I guess so," Kyle murmured. "But, still -"

"So, since it's so close to Halloween," Stan interjected, setting his guitar aside, "why don't we tell scary stories?"

"Hey, that's a great idea," Kenny said, his eyes lighting up.

"Do we have to?" Kyle asked, looking around at the darkness encroaching on every side; the forest full of hidden sounds and waiting horrors.

"Don't worry, we'll protect you," Kenny said, licking Kyle's lips and kissing him deeply. Pulling away, he wiped his mouth. "So, why don't you get us started, Stan? Tell us a story that'll scare the fuck out of us."

"Hey! I have a better idea," Kyle interrupted, a slight tremor in his voice. "Why don't we -"

"Hey, I know, let's just ask each other off the wall shit. Like, if you were going to kill someone, what song would you have playing in the background?" Stan asked.

"Dude, that's easy," Kenny scoffed. "The Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy."

Kyle just stared at him, his eyebrows knitted.

"You had that answer a little too readily available," he said. "It's kind of disturbing, actually."

Kenny shrugged.

"What can I say? This is the shit I think about when I'm working on my car. How about you, Stan?"

Stan thought a moment and then nodded his head, his arms crossed.

"Definitely something by the Carpenters. Their music is just so soothing and sweet, you know? I think it would offset the violence nicely. It'd create an interesting dichotomy, don't you think? I think it would really fuck with the person's head as I took care of business."

Kyle just stared at them, his eyes wide.

"You're both fucking demented," he said, looking back and forth between them.

"Remember in American Psycho when the dude killed that person while listening to Huey Lewis and the News?" Kenny asked, laughing. "Dude, that was majorly fucked up!"

"Yeah, that was awesome," Stan said, doubling over; the effects of the alcohol and the weed making everything seem overwhelmingly hilarious. "That movie was insane!"

"You're both insane," Kyle said, crossing his arms and hiding his face in Kenny's chest. "Now I feel like I have to sleep with one eye open because one of you is going to kill me and hide my body in the woods."

"Yeah, like that's the first thing I think of when I look at your body," Kenny quipped, resting a hand on Kyle's hip as he tried to sooth him. "You are such a fucking scaredy cat."

"I am not!" Kyle yelled, pulling back.

"Fine, if you don't want to tell scary stories or talk about hypothetical homicides, what would you like to do, dude?" Stan asked, picking up his guitar and beginning to play 'Classical Gas.'

Kyle tapped a finger against his chin and thought, the fire illuminating his hair and eyes and making him positively glow. Stan clenched his fingers on his guitar and felt arousal burning through him. Glancing at Kenny, he noticed that the fire lit up his hair as well, turning it a coppery shade; the flames resting in his eyes and making them simmer. Heat crept into his cheeks suddenly, and he realized it wasn't just from the fire.

"Honestly?" Kyle asked, suddenly looking a little shy; almost like a mischievous little fox. "I have a little fantasy of my own, if you don't mind."

"Oh?" Kenny asked, his attention completely captured. "Well, lay it on us."

"I'd like to see you two kiss," Kyle replied, his bright eyes snapping with their own fire. "Like, full on kissing with tongue and everything. I think it would be incredibly hot."

Now Stan felt overwhelmed with the heat seeping into his flesh, his face becoming uncomfortably hot as he stared at Kyle.

"Wait, where the fuck did this come from?" He asked, dragging his fingers across the strings of his guitar and filling the campsite with a shrill twang.

"Yeah, dude. What gives?" Kenny asked, peering at Stan; his eyes shadowed and full of secrets.

Kyle shrugged, seeming to enjoy surprising them.

"I saw Kenny kiss you," he said, looking at Stan pointedly. "While you two were fucking around with the fire. I thought it was sexy, so..." he rested his face in his hand. "I'd like to see more. Is that a problem?"

Now Stan's face really was on fire and the ghostly feeling of Kenny's lips on his cheek burned like a brand on his flesh.

"Well, no, but -"

"Let's do it," Kenny said, his gaze landing on Stan, practically smoldering in the light of the dying campfire. "What do you say, dude?"

"Sure, I mean, I don't know, I -"

"Kenny, shut him up," Kyle said, standing up and pushing Kenny toward Stan. "You know he's too shy to just get on with it. Work your magic."

Standing, Kenny came over to Stan slowly, his lanky body looking especially sinewy as the firelight washed over him. Idly, Stan noticed the tattoos snaking up his arms and suddenly his heartbeat was a frantic staccato in his chest. In a moment, Kenny had reached out and taken the guitar from Stan's hands and set it aside.

"Are you ready?" He asked, kneeling in front of him and placing his hands on Stan's knees.

Glancing at Kyle, Stan saw that he was watching intently, his eyes glittering emeralds. Gulping, he looked into Kenny's dusky blue eyes and nodded softly, his arousal becoming even more potent. Grinning slowly, he leaned forward and brushed his lips across Stan's, the smell of his cologne drifting under his nose and making him feel a little faint. Another smell, a salt of the earth aroma, woke up Stan's senses and only served to feed his desire; motor oil, clean sweat, and tobacco. Sighing, he allowed Kenny to lick his lips apart and all of a sudden their mouths were meeting, the flavor of Jim Beam and cigarettes flush across his tongue.

 _What the fuck is even happening right now?_ Stan thought as he got lost in the kiss, his fingers winding through Kenny's wind-roughened hair and pulling him closer. _I mean, we've kissed before, but not like this..._

Kenny pulled back then, his eyes studying Stan's face, and a secret understanding seemed to pass between them; a mutual love, a closeness, an agreement, of sorts. It seemed to say that while they'd had their differences in the past, everything was going to be okay because they had each other. They both loved Kyle, but it was okay to love one another, too, because wasn't that what it was all about? Love?

"I love you, dude," Stan murmured, still feeling awkward about saying it but finding his courage while Jim Beam coursed through his blood; the firelight lighting up their eyes and Kenny's hands cupping his face.

"I know you do," Kenny said, laughing lightly; his white teeth flashing as he leaned forward again, his soft lips pressing against Stan's.

"This is just too fucking sweet for words," Kyle piped up, clapping his hands and practically squealing on the other side of the fire. Sheepishly, Stan and Kenny pulled apart and looked at him, their hands still resting on one another. "See? Wasn't I right? Seeing you two together is so fucking amazing, I can barely stand it."

"What do you think? Should we jump him?" Kenny asked, softly; his mouth right next to Stan's ear, making him shiver.

Grinning, Stan nodded his head. Standing, they both walked around the fire and converged on Kyle, who acted like he wanted to resist but they both knew better. Pretty soon, they were inside of the little tent and pulling each other's clothes off. As the firelight leaked through the opening of the tent, Stan watched as Kyle straddled Kenny, his entire body trembling as he slid down onto Kenny's cock.

"Mm, this feels even better in the woods," Kenny commented, his voice hitching as he filled up Kyle completely; his hands resting on his hips.

"We've done it in the forest before," Stan remarked, kissing Kyle's neck as he began to slide himself up and down on Kenny's erection. "Remember? At Stark's Pond?"

"Oh, yeah, that's right," Kenny grinned, lifting Kyle gently and bringing him back down. "Jesus, we're a bunch of horn dogs, aren't we?"

"Maybe you two are," Kyle said, wiping some drool from the corner of his mouth; his bedroom eyes wonderfully heavy and filled with pleasure. "I'm just a victim of your perversion."

"Right, mister "I want to see you two kiss because it would be so fucking hot,'" Stan said, laughing a little as his eyes lingered on Kenny's. "We're the perverts here, okay."

"You've corrupted me," Kyle sighed, shuddering a little as Kenny snapped his hips up.

"And I've loved every moment," Kenny said, beckoning to Stan.

Coming closer, Stan leaned down and kissed Kenny deeply, their tongues meeting as he continued to fuck Kyle slowly. The wonderful flavor of whiskey and cigarettes saturated Stan again and all of a sudden, Kenny was tensing up as he moaned, his thrusts speeding up as he came inside of a quickly unraveling Kyle.

"God, I love you guys," Kyle said as he sank onto Kenny's chest, his breaths coming in ragged pants. "I'm going to miss this so much when we graduate."

"Ugh, here we go again with melancholy Molly over here," Kenny groaned, leaning over and kissing Stan again.

"I guess we're just going to have to fuck until he gets over his mood," Stan suggested, grinning.

"Sounds like a plan to me," Kenny said, running a hand through Kyle's sweat-licked curls.

Kyle came to hours later, his exhausted body nestled between Stan and Kenny, his bladder full and his mouth as dry as sawdust.

 _Fucking Malibu,_ he thought, rising slowly while rubbing his eyes. _It always gives me fucking dry mouth._

Glancing at Stan and Kenny, Kyle smiled tenderly as he watched them drift closer together now that he'd moved away. His cute little, horny perverts. Looking around, he quickly pulled on his discarded jeans and his boots, feeling a shiver already coursing through his bones as he opened the tent flap, an errant gust of wind whistling through the campsite. Kyle had never hated his small bladder more than he did in that moment.

Crawling out of the tent, he wandered across the campsite, his eyes straying to the long-forgotten campfire that continued to smolder, its smoky fragrance drifting into the air and filling him with a vague nostalgia. Feeling slightly disoriented from weed, booze, and hours of hot, crazy sex, Kyle made his way into the woods to find a proper clearing to relieve himself in. When he finally found one, he looked around frantically for animals or psycho killers, the hair already beginning to stand up on his neck when he considered how vulnerable he was.

 _Goddamn them,_ he complained inwardly. _Why did they have to start talking about murdering people while we're out in the middle of fucking nowhere?_

Finally, he was done with his business and was hurriedly closing his jeans back up, when Kyle heard a rustling in some bushes nearby. Unbridled terror ripped through him as he turned his head, every shadow looming like an ax murderer as all of the sounds of the night converged on him at once. All of a sudden, the rustling started up again, but this time it was closer. Without even thinking, Kyle hightailed it away from the noise, his frantic feet carrying him away from the campsite and his gently snoozing perverts.

Kyle continued to run until he was out of breath and his lungs felt like they were being incinerated in his chest. Finally, he stopped and leaned over, his hands on his knees as he struggled to regulate his breathing. Looking around, he realized that he had no fucking clue where he was and he was surrounded by dark woods on every side, the night sky showing in gaps between the trees; the velvety navy blue studded with softly glowing stars.

"Where the fuck am I now?" He asked, his voice traveling through the stillness and making the night creatures become silent for a moment. Wrapping his arms around himself, he started to walk even though he had no idea where he was going. All at once, every scary thing he could conceive of seeped into his mind, and every sound and movement in the forest was a waiting horror, readying itself to spring upon him and rip him in twain; Michael Myers, Freddy Kreuger, Roseanne Barr. His brain was suddenly on overdrive, filling him up with nightmares and terror.

"I'm a little lamb who's lost in the wood," he sang softly to himself, feeling his sanity begin to untangle a little as he continued to wander. "I know I could always be good...for someone who'll watch over me..."

Movement right next to Kyle made him scream and jump up, his skinny legs leading him deeper and deeper into the woods, which suddenly seemed to be alive with malevolence. Almost feeling like something awful was right on his heels, Kyle came to a tree and desperately started climbing; his nails biting into the wood and carrying him up its trunk. Coming almost to the top, he scrambled out on a branch and clutching at it, he looked down at the forest floor, his heart thumping so hard in his chest he thought he was going to pass out and go careening to his death. With wide eyes, he watched as some bushes parted and out stepped a creature, its brown fur glowing in the moonlight.

"Jesus Christ, a fucking deer? For real?" He shouted, suddenly hating himself for overreacting and getting himself hopelessly lost; his eyes following the perfectly harmless animal as it milled about. "God, I'm never going to live this down!"

Glancing down, Kyle gulped and clutched at the branch, a cold sweat breaking out across his skin as he contemplated how far from the ground he really was.

"This is fine, I'll just figure a way out by myself," Kyle reasoned, beginning to back himself down the branch until he hit the tree trunk. Shakily, he held onto the branch as he started scooting a foot downward, trying to find a foothold in the trunk. Nausea crept into his mouth as he almost lost his balance and clutched at the tree, his hands winding around it in a frantic death grip.

"Okay, maybe I'm fucked," he said, holding onto the tree with all of his strength. "I guess I'll just have to wait until Stan and Kenny wake up and come find me."

Sighing, he looked up at the harvest moon and its positioning in the sky. Based on how far away it was from the horizon, he figured he would be up in the tree for at least a few hours before the sun finally rose, and there was no telling when Stan and Kenny would wake up after everything they'd had to drink.

"And there's no way I'm going to be able to sleep up here," he said, bitterly. "I am so fucking screwed right now."

Resigned to his fate and feeling incredibly foolish, Kyle tried to get as comfortable as possible given his circumstances, not looking forward to how much shit he was going to get for his little mishap. Looking up at the moon, he lay his head against the branch, the rough wood digging into his cheek.

 _And now I play the waiting game,_ he thought, the stars glimmering like pearls in the sky as night breezes rustled his hair; making him shiver.

It was with aching limbs and a raging headache that Kyle was awoken the next morning, the sun casting its bloody light over the woods and slicing into his eyes. Glancing down at the ground, he saw a familiar orange parka wandering around, and he quickly came to life; his throat dry and his voice raspy as he called out.

"Kenny!" He yelled, still clinging to the tree like a lemur. "Kenny! Up here!"

Suddenly, a bright blue pair of eyes were peering up at him and he fumed as a slow smile crept across Kenny's face. Cupping his hands around his mouth, Kenny shouted into the woods.

"Stan! Stan, dude, I found him! Over here!"

There was a rustling in the foliage nearby and then Stan appeared, his blue-black hair shining in the light of a new day.

"Where is he?" He asked, looking around wildly.

Laughing, Kenny tugged on Stan's coat and when he had his attention, he pointed upward where Kyle was clinging to the branch.

"It appears we've found a wild Kyle tree," he said, dissolving into more laughter as Stan looked up, his eyes catching on Kyle. Suddenly, he was laughing uncontrollably too as Kyle waited for them to get over their hysterics.

"Okay, you assholes, give it a rest and get me down from here," he snapped, looking around for pine cones to drop on their heads.

"Okay, dude, just hold on," Kenny managed to say, but then he was doubled over with laughter again.

"Dude, how the fuck did you end up there?" Stan asked, squinting his eyes against the sunshine.

"I fucking flew up here," Kyle said, his tone frosty. "How the fuck do you think I got up here, Stan? I climbed!"

"Yeah, but why?"

"Just shut up and get me down and then we can have a fucking question and answer period, okay?!"

"Jesus, fine. Hold on," Stan said, glancing at Kenny. "So, what do you think?"

Kenny glanced up at Kyle, his hand on his chin as he studied the situation.

"Actually, this raises a good point," he said, his voice contemplative.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, we've fucked in the woods, in a tent, and in Kyle's basement, but have we ever fucked in a tree?" He asked, continuing to rub his chin.

Stan crossed his arms and thought for a moment.

"You know, now that you mention it -"

"Stop fucking around and get me down from here!" Kyle shrieked. "Or we won't be fucking anywhere!"

"Well, that would just be a shame, wouldn't it?" Kenny asked, raising his eyebrows at Stan.

"Oh, yes. A horrible shame. A tragedy, really," Stan replied, nodding his head. He looked up at Kyle and grinned, his blue eyes merry with mischief. "Just calm down, okay? We'll go and get some rope from the site and be right back."

"You do that," Kyle groused, his mood becoming fouler by the minute.

"Yeah, just hang on, Kyle. We'll be right back," Kenny joked. After a moment, Kyle could hear them retreating through the forest and he was alone again.

 _He thinks he's so fucking funny,_ he thought, continuing to hold on for dear life.

"Well, I know one thing for sure," he said out loud, his voice ringing through the fresh morning air. "I'm never fucking going camping again."


	7. Chapter 7

**Spent my days with a woman unkind**  
 **Smoked my stuff and drank all my wine.**  
 **Made up my mind to make a new start**  
 **Going To California with an aching in my heart.**  
 **Someone told me there's a girl out there**  
 **With love in her eyes and flowers in her hair.**  
 **Took my chances on a big jet plane**  
 **Never let them tell you that they're all the same.**  
 **The sea was red and the sky was grey**  
 **Wondered how tomorrow could ever follow today.**

 **-Going to California, Led Zeppelin**

* * *

"You guys, these pancakes are fucking amazing," Kenny sighed with happiness, a gigantic forkful hovering in front of his face. Opening his mouth, he shoved the golden breakfast treat between his lips and chewed enthusiastically. "Stan, you have a serious gift, my man. Never change."

"Would it be asking too much that you not eat with your mouth open?" Kyle asked, nursing a cup of tea and looking particularly prickly. "You always do that, Kenny."

"Aw, leave him alone, dude," Stan piped up, tearing into his own stack of golden, fluffy pancakes. "He's just enjoying himself."

Kyle grunted, his plate of pancakes completely untouched. A red flush lingered in his cheeks, his green eyes unusually bright; resembling sun-drenched clovers.

"You're just defending him because he's kissing your ass," he commented, taking another sip of the fragrant, steaming tea.

"No, I'm defending him because you're being particularly savage today," Stan contradicted, reaching over and rubbing Kyle's wild curls. "What's your deal, anyway?"

"And you didn't want to smoke," Kenny chimed in, taking another huge bite; maple syrup drifting down his chin. "That alone tells me there's something rotten in Denmark."

"I've got news for you, Kenny," Kyle replied, primly, his teacup resting against his plump lower lip. "Not everyone aspires to be a raging pothead."

"Now that is a goddamn shame." Kenny shook his head, a look of utter sorrow washing across his features. "The world would be a much happier place if we were all just a little high all the time."

Kyle set his cup down with a clatter and swiped a hand through his mussed curls, an expression of annoyance turning his lips downward.

"Is that so? So, you think a surgeon who's slicing your chest open like a lox platter should be a little high? Really?"

"Here we go," Stan said, forking up another smidgen of pancake.

"Yup, tuck in. He's about to go on one of his rants," Kenny agreed, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair.

Kyle looked at both of them with one of his classic "I can't believe what I'm fucking listening to" expressions, the brightness of his eyes only intensifying.

"It isn't a rant, you assholes," he snapped, his voice adopting the higher pitch reserved for chewing people out. "It's reality. We can't just spend every weekend getting high and drunk and -"

"Fucking until the cows come home," Kenny interjected, smiling widely; the maple syrup still clinging to his chin. "Right?"

"Like hell we can't," Stan said, pushing his plate away.

Kyle sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, a tiny cough breaking through his lips.

"Have you guys given any thought to next year? Christ, are you guys even thinking about next week?"

Kenny nodded his head, his eyes narrowing.

"Now I get it. This isn't spitfire talking, this is his mom we're listening to right now."

"Ah, now it makes sense," Stan agreed. "She's still on your ass, huh?"

"She's always on my ass, you guys, but that isn't the point," Kyle said, hugging himself; the flush deepening on his cheeks. "I'm just worried about you two. Don't you guys have any plans at all?"

"My plans involve tapping that ass," Kenny said, picking up his fork again; faint stirrings of irritation coursing through his blood. Leave it to Mrs. Broflovski to disrupt a perfectly serviceable Friday night get together. Hell, Kyle's folks weren't even home and she still managed to jack things up. Kyle was high-strung at the best of times, but he was even worse when his mother was in his ear.

Stan was peering closely at Kyle, his cobalt eyes very intent.

"Kyle, are you feeling okay? You've barely eaten anything and you seem really flushed."

Kyle just waved him away and picked up his cup again, another cough escaping his mouth before he could bring it to his lips. Furrowing his brow, he resolutely let the cough pass and then went back to sipping his Earl Gray.

"I'm fine, Stan. Quit being ridiculous."

Stan caught Kenny's eye and nodded subtly, which Kenny picked up immediately. Kyle was too fucking stubborn for his own good, a fact that they'd both learned to deal with and put the kibosh on whenever it got out of hand. Kenny pushed his nearly empty plate away and stood, stretching nonchalantly and watching Kyle from the corner of his eye. Moving slowly, he came around the table and latched his hands onto Kyle's shoulders and pulled him close, eliciting a tiny yelp from the feisty ginger.

"Hey, what the fuck -"

Before Kyle could finish his statement, Kenny was kissing his forehead, and the warmth he felt when pressing his lips to his flesh immediately filled him with concern. Pulling back, he looked down at Kyle with what he hoped was his most stern expression.

"Dude, you're fucking burning up," he chastised, gripping Kyle's shoulders a little harder; the delicate bones sliding under his fingertips. Sometimes he got the impression that the little redhead was constructed out of fucking balsa wood or something. "How long have you been feeling this way, and why the fuck didn't you tell us?"

Kyle managed to jerk away, setting his cup down and bringing his hand up to press against Kenny's broad chest. He almost had to smirk, though; if Kyle seriously thought he could push him away, he was sorely mistaken. Kenny didn't want to toot his own horn, but he knew he was strong as fuck. After all, all of that lifting had to make some kind of difference, right? Feeling generous, he allowed the sickly Kyle to think he was having an impact and he moved back a titch.

"I didn't say anything because you guys always overreact to shit like this," he snapped, bright eyes narrowed. "Besides, I have a cold. Big fucking deal."

"Where's your thermometer?" Stan asked, standing as well. "Let's test your little cold theory out, shall we?"

"Fucking jeezum crow, are you for real?" Kyle asked, rolling his eyes toward the ceiling.

"Yeah, we are. Deal with it," Kenny said, walking away toward the bathroom. "It's in the medicine cabinet, right?"

"Probably, but I'm not going to help you find it," Kyle snapped, crossing his arms and burrowing down into his oversized hoody.

"Fine, get in the way of progress then," Kenny retorted, snapping on the bathroom light and going to the cabinet. After rooting around for a moment, he found the thermometer and came back to the kitchen, ready to get down to business regardless of what his little spitfire had to say.

"Open your mouth," he instructed, tapping the little button on the thermometer; a little beep flitting through the room.

Kyle just responded by buckling down and becoming even more stubborn, his mouth shut tight and his lips pursed. He shook his head.

Walking over, Kenny slammed his hand on the table, making the dishes jump as well as Kyle; who looked up at him with wide eyes.

"I know you get off on being petulant and pigheaded," he said, lowly, "but I'm losing my patience, and I don't think you want that. Now, unless you want me to threaten you with bodily harm, open your goddamn mouth."

Kyle looked over at Stan, a look of complete shock distorting his features. It was very rare that Kenny adopted that sort of attitude toward anyone, especially him. His eyes pleaded with Stan to intervene but he merely shrugged his shoulders; a wry smile playing on his lips.

"You know how Kenny is when he's determined to do something," he said. "I think you should just listen, dude. It's for your own good, anyway."

Giving him his dirtiest look, Kyle slid his eyes back toward Kenny, their gazes locking for a moment. Kenny refused to back down though, in fact, he could only feel his resolve becoming stronger. He hadn't really noticed it before because he always thought Kyle was cute as a button, but he seriously looked run-down and tired. Crossing his arms, he cocked an eyebrow.

"I can stand here all day, Kyle," he said. "I don't think you realize I can be just as stubborn as you are when I've a mind. So, what's your choice?"

Growling, Kyle finally opened his mouth but his entire demeanor radiated supreme resentment. Kenny just rolled his eyes and ignored it. He also ignored the little twinge in his cock as he slid the thermometer between Kyle's lips; vivid fantasies springing to mind of what he'd _prefer_ to be putting in the redhead's mouth. They all waited in silence as the thermometer did its job, a tiny trill finally emanating through the kitchen. Reaching out, Kenny plucked it from Kyle's lips and read it.

"So, what's the verdict?" Stan asked, leaning forward anxiously. "Does he have a fever?"

Kenny cut his eyes to Kyle, wanting to shake him and kiss him in equal measures. Why did he have to be so fucking difficult?

"Yeah, he has a fever. Check this shit out," he said, handing the instrument to Stan.

"Jesus Christ, your temp is 102.3!" He shouted, glaring at Kyle. "What the fuck, Kyle?!"

Kyle wilted a little, some of his fire going out as he slumped against his chair.

"I just thought it would go away," he murmured. "I've been trying to finish all of my college applications, so -"

"So, you just ignored your health?" Kenny asked, running a hand through his hair and thinking idly that he still needed to get it cut. He tucked a dirty blonde strand behind his ear as he studied Kyle, a feeling of compassion searing through him on the heels of his irritation.

"How long have you been feeling this way?" He asked.

Kyle shrugged, his finger tracing along a design on his mother's lace tablecloth.

"Since we got back from camping, I guess?" He said, wincing a little at Kenny and Stan's expressions.

"Dude, that was a fucking week ago!" Stan exclaimed.

Kenny tapped his fingers against the back of a chair in frustration but suddenly he couldn't help but smile.

"I wouldn't be surprised if this all started because he decided to camp out in a tree overnight," he mused, his smile widening.

Stan clamped a hand over his mouth, snorting a little; blue eyes flooded with amusement.

"I guess we picked a rotten apple," he commented. "I've heard Kyle trees are notorious for producing questionable fruit."

"You two seriously need to shut the fuck up," Kyle groused. "Being outside overnight did not make me sick, okay? You know that's not how it works."

"Yeah, but being exposed to the elements can fuck with your immune system," Kenny replied. "Or did you just forget that?"

"Either way, I'm fine, so just leave me alone," Kyle snapped, rising from the table. "And I'm getting really tired of you guys making fun of me about that damn tree incident. Let it go."

"Kyle, we're just worried about you," Kenny said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Besides, we're never going to let you live down the tree incident. Accept that. We're going to remind you of that shit until the day you die."

Pulling away, Kyle started walking toward the living room. After a few steps, he stumbled a little and almost wiped out. Groaning, Kenny glanced at Stan and rolled his eyes.

"Stan, handle this, please," he said, quirking a brow. "I'm going to grab some supplies."

"I'm on it," Stan replied. Going over to Kyle, he easily scooped him up and threw him over his shoulder, Kyle fighting and fussing the whole time. Stan ignored his futile protests while he doggedly carried him out of the kitchen and toward the stairs; Kyle's shrieks filling up the house and only serving to be a source of entertainment for everyone who could hear.

"Put me down, you fucking asshole! What the fuck are you doing?!"

"Attending to you," Stan said, simply.

"I'm going to kick your ass as soon as you put me down!" Kyle yelled, trying to flail and failing miserably; his small fists pounding against Stan's back.

"Hey, you don't have to threaten us with a good time," Kenny commented, wryly; following them up the stairs. He smiled cutely when Kyle threw him a death glare. Holding up his hands, he showed him that they were filled with remedies; cough syrup, juice, ibuprofen, etc. "Besides, we're just trying to take care of your stubborn ass. Just sit back and enjoy it."

"I refuse," Kyle said, his sharp little canines flashing in the lamplight when they made it to his room. Stan deposited him on the bed and rubbed at his back, looking mildly irritated.

"Did you have to hit me? You know, you're stronger than you look."

"That's why he's our little spitfire," Kenny said, cheerfully. "Now, take off your pants, Kyle."

"Wait, what? Why?" Kyle asked, raising his eyebrows.

"You can't go to bed wearing jeans. It isn't comfortable. Strip."

"No," Kyle said, turning his chin up. "You can't make me."

Kenny rolled his eyes at Stan, who continued to rub his back.

"Yeah, like we've ever had an issue getting his pants off in the past."

"Right?" Stan replied.

After a moment, they converged on Kyle and waged all-out war, the sounds of scuffles and Kyle's yells echoing through his room as they manhandled their tempestuous invalid. At the end, Kyle was stuffed into his pajamas and tucked safely into his bed, where he lay his head against the pillow and glared at them both; green eyes fever-bright but angry. His luscious red curls were drenched in sweat and fanning out prettily on his white pillowcase. He went to speak but another round of violent hacks broke out of his mouth instead, reddening his cheeks until they were the color of candy apples

"See? That's why you're in bed," Kenny said, handing him a bottle of water and a handful of ibuprofen. After Kyle swallowed the pills he measured out a little cough syrup as well. "Here," he instructed. "Drink it down."

"Ugh, I fucking hate this stuff," Kyle said, eyeing it with distaste; his voice raspy from coughing. "Do I have to?"

Kenny just gave him a look that immediately quelled any further protests. Obediently, he drank down the syrup, grimacing the whole time. Gagging a little, he handed the cup back to Kenny. Setting the articles aside, Kenny reached out and rested a hand on Kyle's flushed, tired face.

"Why do you have to make things so much harder on yourself?" He asked, stroking his cheek softly.

"And by extension, us?" Stan added, sitting on the foot of the bed and rubbing Kyle's leg through his heavy comforter.

Kyle sank deeper into the pillows, nuzzling against Kenny's hand a little. Suddenly, his face and voice were contrite, some of his earlier petulance evaporating as he regarded them both.

"You guys are always looking out for me and taking care of me," he said, softly; roughened voice making Kenny's heart hurt to hear. "I just want you to be okay, too. You know? I worry."

Kenny exchanged a glance with Stan, their secret communication on point as usual; both of them feeling waves of tenderness for Kyle. Looking back, Kenny took Kyle's clammy little hand and rubbed his thumb along the top of it. Lifting it to his mouth, he kissed his knuckles.

"As soon as you're better, we'll sit down and talk about our futures, okay? I promise," he murmured, studying Kyle's face; the dark circles staining the areas beneath his eyes. "I guess I just have a hard time being as serious as you."

"Clearly," Kyle smiled, his eyes drooping a little. "That much is painfully obvious." Turning to Stan, he raised an eyebrow. "What about you?"

"I'm even less serious than Kenny, dude," Stan quipped, rolling his eyes.

"Come on, Stan..."

"Fine, fine," Stan sighed, holding up his hands in defeat. "We'll all get together and talk about our plans or whatever, even though I don't know why it should matter."

Kyle sat up at these words, his eyes flashing with anger.

"It matters a lot, Stan! God, doesn't it bother you that after this year we could all be going our separate ways?! That bothers me like crazy!"

Shooting Stan an irritated look, eyebrows raised, Kenny gently reached out and pushed Kyle back against the pillows; his narrow chest heaving up and down from his sudden outburst.

"I'm sure he didn't mean it that way, spitfire. Just relax, okay? Everything's going to be alright."

"I won't be your spitfire after we graduate," Kyle sniffled, little teardrops cresting his eyes.

"Wait, hold the phone. Why are you crying?!" Kenny asked, completely taken aback at this sudden turn; Kyle's eyes watering as he clutched at his blankets. "And who says you won't be my -"

"Dude, I think he's starting to trip balls," Stan broke in, studying the bottle of cough syrup. "This shit has codeine in it."

"Huh? Seriously?" Kenny asked, snatching the bottle from his hand and groaning when he read the label. "I didn't even pay attention to the label, I just saw that it helped with coughs."

"Yeah, it's leftover from the last time I got sick," Kyle said, continuing to cry but giggling a little now too. Looking around, his eyes appeared a little dazed and half-lidded. "Hey, why the fuck is everything made of blocks? And why are we in Marie Antoinette's bedchamber*?"

"Marie Antoinette's bedchamber? The fuck? That's weirdly specific, dude," Stan commented, looking around as well.

Annoyed, Kenny flicked Stan's forehead.

"Why are you looking around, too? Kyle is clearly becoming high as fuck; we're not suddenly sitting in the palace of Versailles, numb nuts." Setting the bottle aside, he peered at Kyle who was still crying a little but also smiling like the Cheshire Cat; eyes unfocused and lapsing into a deeper green.

"How the fuck did that stuff kick in so quickly? He only took it like 15 minutes ago."

Stan stood and went to kneel next to the bed, his hair gleaming in the lamplight as he studied Kyle's face.

"I mean, he does weigh like 20 pounds, and he barely ate anything today, so," he shrugged. "What can I say? He's a lightweight when it comes to booze and pain meds."

"Quit talking shit about my weight," Kyle snapped, becoming coherent enough to try and take a swipe at Stan, who easily dodged it.

"Then eat a pie on occasion, Kyle," Stan teased, sticking his tongue out at him.

"Okay, children, that's enough," Kenny interjected, suddenly feeling like he was dealing with a roomful of toddlers. "He's right about your weight, though, Kyle. Just saying."

"Oh, fuck you both," Kyle replied, sinking into the pillows and closing his eyes for a moment. After a second, they popped open and they looked even more far gone. Glancing at them, he snickered. "No, but seriously, why the fuck are you guys made out of blocks?"

Sighing, Kenny reached over and pulled the covers up to Kyle's chin, tucking him in a little tighter. Resting a hand on Kyle's burning forehead, he looked deeply into his illness-clouded eyes and kissed his lips softly.

"I think it's time for you to get a little sleep, okay?"

"Mm, you taste like maple syrup," Kyle said, his cinnamon freckles apparent even through the flush rising on his cheekbones. "Kiss me again."

Kenny smirked and kissed him once more, his lips lingering on Kyle's cough syrup-flavored mouth.

"There," he whispered. "Now go to sleep." Reaching over, he went to turn off the lamp but Kyle stopped him.

"Please stay with me until I fall asleep, okay?" He looked over at Stan and held out his hand. "Will you guys climb in beside me and stay for awhile?"

Stan smiled tenderly and squeezed his hand. Standing, he slid under the covers and pulled Kyle close.

"Of course," he murmured, kissing Kyle's cheek. Out of the corner of his eye, he regarded Kenny. "What do you say, dude?"

Kenny reached out and rubbed Kyle's hair lovingly. He too slipped under the blankets on Kyle's other side and held him close; their warmth building beneath the covers and making him sigh a little.

"Until you fall asleep," he said, gently. "Now, close your eyes."

* * *

"He is such a piece of work, man," Kenny said fondly, shaking his head a little as he lit up a cigarette. Taking a long drag, he blew smoke out of the corner of his mouth; the white cloud drifting upward and scattering toward the stars. "He's probably been feeling like shit for the whole week and he never felt the need to clue us in."

Stan smiled, taking a pull on his own cigarette and seeming to relax almost instantly; the tension falling from his muscles as the smoke filled his lungs. His thoughts drifted to the fretful ginger nestled in his warm bed and sleeping the sleep of the petulant; waves of tenderness flooding him.

"He certainly doesn't like making waves when it comes to stuff like that, huh?"

"Yeah, so then it becomes a bigger problem," Kenny sighed. "He could've developed pneumonia or something."

"There's a reason you call him spitfire, Kenny," Stan pointed out. "You gotta take the good with the bad, right?"

Kenny just snorted and continued to smoke, the tip of his cigarette smoldering like a tiny orange star. All around them the world was covered in ice and snow, the byproducts of an early storm that had passed through midweek; frigid winds tearing through their parkas and making them shiver. Overhead, the sky stretched away into eternity, scrubbed clean of clouds and sparkling with the lights of a million stars; the milky way arcing its silvery river through it all and practically glittering. For a moment, Stan couldn't help but notice that the deep blue of the sky almost matched Kenny's eyes and then he felt extremely idiotic for even thinking such a thing.

"He can never just be in the moment, you know?" He asked, clearing his throat a little. "He's always worrying about what's down the line."

"I've never understood that, honestly," Kenny said, pulling his hood up so it covered his hair. "Me, I take things one day at a time."

"That's all you can really do, right?" Stan asked, flicking some ash away. "What's worrying going to do?"

"Make you crazy," Kenny smirked. "That's what."

They walked in silence for awhile, each lost in their own thoughts as their boots passed through crisp stretches of snow; their weight cracking the latticework of ice etched on the top. In the distance, fragrant stands of fir trees and pines were sable shadows against the navy blue sky. Under a crystalline horned moon, wild and bright, Stark's Pond was a hushed pool of ink glistening; cold and unforgiving, but not iced over yet.

"It does get you to thinking, though. Doesn't it?" Stan asked, finishing his cigarette and clenching it in his numbed fingers.

"Hmm?"

"About the future."

Kenny shrugged.

"South Park is my future, dude," he said, calmly. "I'm not getting out of here anytime soon."

Stan glanced at him curiously, a little disturbed by the quiet resignation present in his friend's voice; almost like he could see into the future and had already seen it all.

"Why do you say that?"

"I'm a small town boy, Stan," he replied. "My kin doesn't stray very far from its roots. That should be pretty obvious."

"Yeah, but still," Stan said, glancing at the wandering moon and how it shone on the wide open ice fields. "You're your own person, dude. Like, do you even want to stay here?"

Kenny lapsed into silence for a moment, the crunching of snow under their boots echoing off of the trees scattered roundabout them.

"I'd like to stay here if I wasn't the only one," he finally said, his voice a little low and making Stan have to strain to hear. "But you know Kyle, dude. He isn't going to stay here. You can just take one look at him and realize that. And you, well -"

"Kenny, I don't exactly have big city aspirations myself, okay?" Stan cut in, the sudden sadness in Kenny's voice catching him off-guard and making him feel inexplicably angry. Goddammit, he was too young to sound so defeated. "And I really think you're selling yourself short."

Kenny snorted and bumped Stan's shoulder a little.

"And what makes you say that?"

Stan clenched his fists a little, trying to come up with a way to articulate what he was feeling. Expressing his innermost thoughts had never been his forte, but dammit, Kenny deserved a little support, didn't he?

"Look, Kenny. You're really fucking smart and you think on your feet. You give a shit about people and you're honest. You have a lot of great qualities. I mean, you saw that Kyle was sick and what did you do? You took care of it. You didn't bitch and moan, you know?" He thought a moment. "Kyle's mom wants him to be a doctor but I think we both know that doesn't really suit his temperament. But, you? Dude, I could totally see you being a doctor. Why can't you?"

Stan could feel himself blushing at his outburst and he glanced away, feeling foolish until he felt Kenny's pinky finger linking through his own. Looking down, his face burned even hotter.

"You know, if I had to choose a word to describe you, it'd be sweet," Kenny said, snickering a little, but not unkindly. "And naive, of course."

Stan pulled his hand away, annoyed.

"How the fuck am I naive?"

"Just listen to yourself, Stan. Me? A doctor? Do you know how expensive medical school is? Christ, regular college is crazy expensive these days."

"But, there are scholarships, and -"

"And what? Scholarships aren't enough to get me through pre-med and everything else, dude. Besides, I don't think I'm suited to be a doctor either," Kenny shrugged, reaching down and linking his pinky with Stan's again; his skin wonderfully warm and bleeding through Stan's glove, even in the midst of the autumn chill.

Ignoring the upswing of his frantic heartbeat, Stan cleared his throat and tried to formulate a response.

"You said you want to be a mechanic. Is that true, or were you just fucking with Kyle?"

Kenny laughed.

"Oh, I'm always fucking with spitfire, but I was being kind of serious, too. I mean, I'm pretty good with cars and people are always going to need mechanics, right?"

"Yeah, but is that what you actually want to do?"

Kenny sighed a little and ran a hand through his hair, his light yellow locks silvered by the clean moonlight. Watching the wayward strands fall across his forehead made Stan's breath hitch in his throat a little, though he couldn't have possibly said why.

"Why are you so hung up on what we want, Stan? Haven't you noticed that most people aren't necessarily doing what they want? They're doing what they have to in order to survive."

Now Stan was feeling angry, for reasons unknown. Maybe it was because of how resigned Kenny sounded, or maybe it was his tone when he spoke to him; like he was a stupid, ignorant child that didn't know any better.

"Quit being so fucking condescending, Kenny," he snapped, yanking his hand away again even though he really would've preferred to revel in Kenny's warmth. "Life isn't just about survival. It's about being happy too."

Kenny jammed his hands in the pockets of his parka and picked up his pace, a restless energy wafting off of him in waves.

"That's easy for you to say, Stan. You've always been taken care of, had security. I haven't." Craning his neck downward, Kenny watched the ground as he continued to plow through the icy slush; his black boots leaving a messy trail behind them. "Maybe for me, surviving is being happy. Did you ever consider that?"

"Kenny, I'm sure your parents would -"

"My parents?" Kenny scoffed, rounding on him; chest heaving. "What do you know about them? Huh? Have they ever seemed like they gave a shit about my future?"

"Well, I don't know, but -"

"That's exactly right. You don't know, so stop talking out of your ass, okay? I'd really appreciate it." He gave Stan one last cutting look before he trudged ahead, the silvery-blue moonlight falling over his shoulders and making him practically light up; an ethereal creature striding across a lonely snowfield. For a moment, Stan just watched Kenny walk away, completely at a loss of what he should say, and in that moment he'd never felt so young, so inexperienced, so _naive_. Just like Kenny had said. Finally, he managed to come back to himself and he started running after him, his eyes resting on that familiar orange parka, his heart filling with a raw, painful tenderness.

"Kenny, wait! Stop!"

Kenny didn't turn toward him, though; opting instead to gaze up at the silent moon that continued to sail through the chilled sky. When Stan caught up to him, he began to speak, but his voice was gentle now; pensive.

"Do you want to know about one of my favorite memories?" He asked, voice quiet in the cold hush.

"Of course," Stan replied, his lungs burning from exertion and cold.

"My mom used to have this old nightgown," Kenny replied, his eyes still resting on the moon fairly dripping its blue ice through the sky. "It had this red pattern and it was practically falling apart from being washed so many times, but for whatever reason, I've never forgotten it. Anyway," he continued, rubbing a hand across his eyes. "There was this one winter where my dad actually managed to hold onto a job, so we had some money coming in." He shook his head, his silky blonde hair appearing so soft and silvery that Stan ached to touch it.

"It was amazing," he said, softly. "We had dinner every night. I mean, it wasn't anything to go crazy about, just beans and tortillas and potatoes*, but we never went to bed hungry. But you want to know what was even better than that?" He turned to Stan, one eyebrow cocked; night sky eyes full of memories and sadness.

Stan just shook his head, his entire focus arrested by the boy beside him.

"We had heat," Kenny said, closing his eyes as he fell into memories. "We were able to turn on the heat and when I went to bed I wouldn't shiver in the dark. It was so warm it was like falling asleep in someone's arms every night." He wrapped his arms around himself, smiling a little. "One night, I woke up for whatever reason, and I went out in the living room, and there was my mom. She was wearing that red-patterned night gown and she was standing over top of one of the heating vents, and I can remember the way the air just made it billow out." He laughed a little, hugging himself tighter.

"I know it's stupid, but I've always remembered that," he murmured. "Just my mom standing over top of that vent and letting the warm air float under her nightgown." He gazed up at the sky again, but now his night-darkened eyes were so sad and hungry that Stan could barely stand it. "She was standing next to the window, and it was so close to dawn, but the sky was such a beautiful shade of blue...I can't even describe it. I don't know why, but that's one of the happiest memories I have, Stan."

"Kenny," Stan said, reaching a hand toward Kenny but not feeling like he was allowed to touch him. "I'm sorry, I didn't understand. I -"

"That's how it feels with both of you," Kenny interrupted him, turning and smiling his same old smile; casual and completely disarming. "When I'm with you guys I feel like I'm always warm; like I'm not falling asleep in that dark, cold room. The sky is always that beautiful shade of blue and I'm safe."

Stan clenched his hands at his sides, completely unprepared to deal with or respond to such a confession. Kenny was being so honest, so completely devoid of pretense, he had no idea what to say. More than ever, he felt so small, so inexperienced; a virgin when it came to the true ways of the world and the miseries it contained. He had so much growing up to do, and so much to learn. The very idea was staggering to him as he stood in that vast snowfield, the moon shining down, the stars twinkling silently, and Kenny watching him with warmth and an open heart.

Feeling reckless and out of his element, Stan reached down and plucked up a handful of snow; his gloved hands packing it into a nice little ball. Without a second thought, he lobbed the ball straight at Kenny's face and watched as it exploded into bits; Kenny's pensive eyes opening in shock and surprise. Stan stood there for a moment, caught between terror and wanting to laugh, completely unsure of how Kenny was going to respond. He was relieved when Kenny started chuckling, his hand reaching up to scrape away the remnants of snow lingering on his skin.

"So, this is how you want to die, huh?" He asked, smirking as snow darkened his blonde hair and brought a glow into his cheeks.

"You were being so serious," Stan said, beginning to gather up more snow. "I just thought -"

"You just decided that you were in the mood for having your ass beat. I get it," Kenny said, gathering up a snowball as well. An errant shaft of moonlight drifted over one sharp canine, making it glitter wickedly. Drawing forward, he packed the snow into a ball, his hood falling back and revealing all of his shaggy blonde hair; glowing and lighting up in the moon's cast. After a moment, he started running, eyes gleaming and full of manic mischief.

Yelping, Stan tried to retreat but Kenny caught him before he could move. In less than a second, Kenny was upon him and rubbing the snowball in his face, laughing to beat the band.

"Take a bath, Marsh," he growled, continuing to rub the sharp ice flecks into Stan's skin; making him gasp and try to pull away.

Laughing, Stan managed to pull away and backtracked, his feet swift over the icy crust as he expertly avoided Kenny closing in on him again; his hands filled with snowballs.

"Try to catch me, McCormick," he taunted, deftly avoiding Kenny as he closed in, relishing in his look of frustration as he stayed just out of arms' reach. Turning, he was feeling pretty cocky when all of a sudden he felt himself being tackled from behind. Pitching forward, he fell face first into the snow and could feel himself being weighed down by a hard, squirming assailant.

"Gotcha!" Kenny crowed, holding him down as Stan tried to wriggle away, frantically spitting out snow and wincing as the cold seeped into his clothes.

"Hey! Get off of me, dickhead!" Stan yelled, trying to throw him off but to no avail. It would seem that Kenny was determined to make a point.

"What's the magic word?" He asked, his tone dripping deceptive sweetness.

"NOW!" Stan snapped, wincing as his hands started to go numb.

"Oh, you can do better than that," he cooed, squeezing Stan a little harder as he continued to flail. "Now be a good lad and cooperate, hmm?"

"Fine, please get the fuck off of me! There, I said it!" Stan shouted, annoyed that he was getting hopelessly cold, wet, and turned on at Kenny's tone; amber sweet and so dark.

"That's the ticket!" Kenny crowed, rolling off of him, and they lay side by side in the white-drenched field as the cosmos opened up above them. Galaxies whirled and shimmered lifetimes away as Stan gasped for breath and Kenny just snickered, completely amused at besting his awkward friend. All at once, skittering meteorites began arcing across the sky in sparkling droves as they lay there, contemplating the endless heavens.

"Wow," Stan breathed. "I didn't know there was a meteor shower happening tonight."

"Me either," Kenny murmured, reaching over and taking his hand. "Life's just full of surprises, isn't it?"

"I guess," Stan replied, eyes wide and drinking in the spectacle above him; careening lights flashing and dazzling the night sky.

Laughing softly, Kenny suddenly pulled Stan close and his warm mouth was settling on his cold lips, taking his breath away as a million shooting stars flew overhead. Needful hands threaded through Stan's hair and he was drawn closer, sinking into Kenny's kiss until he almost felt like he was free falling. Whimpering, he pulled back, not sure how to respond.

"W-what are you doing?" He gasped out, heart pounding and arousal burning through him.

"What, don't you like it?" Kenny asked, gazing up at him like he'd regarded the moon; blue eyes bright and watchful.

Stan blushed, looking away but still watching Kenny out of the corner of his eye. He tried to ignore the excitement waking up in his veins and almost obliterating everything else, but it was so fucking difficult.

"Of course I do, but -"

"But, what?" Kenny asked, pretty lips parting as they smirked slightly. "Kiss me, Stan." Opening his arms, he gestured at the overwhelming night practically threatening to swallow them whole. "Can you think of a better setting to make out in? Huh?"

"It's just..." Stan started but broke off, once again not sure how to express himself. God, why did all of this have to be so complicated? He rubbed his face while he tried to collect his thoughts.

"Didn't that kiss freak you out? When we were camping?" He finally managed to ask.

Kenny thought for a moment, sitting up; orange parka drenched from being pushed into the snow.

"A little," he conceded, but then he was smiling softly; almost wistfully. "But in a good way."

"Really?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, we hadn't really talked about the possibility of you and I falling for each other before all of this started, you know? We just talked about our feelings for Kyle, right?"

Now Stan's face was practically on fire, a violent blush having risen on his cheekbones at Kenny's words. He pressed his soggy gloves against his face to help cool himself down, his eyes wandering everywhere except toward Kenny.

"Hey, are you okay?" Kenny asked, settling a hand on Stan's shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah," Stan replied, hastily. "I just didn't expect you to say that."

"I do have the power to surprise people, huh? Like when I approached you about all of this in the first place." Kenny grinned, his hand tightening a little and making Stan shiver.

"Y-you're falling for me?" Stan asked, his voice small; heart racing like a jackrabbit in his chest.

Kenny shrugged.

"Well, yeah. I never really considered it before, but honestly, you're as easy to love as Kyle, and haven't you noticed we're a lot alike?"

"Not really," Stan admitted. "You're mature and you seem to have your shit together. I'm just kind of...wandering around and trying to figure shit out."

"I got news for you, sunshine. I'm just as lost as anyone else, I just don't let it get to me," Kenny replied, wryly. "Just like you. You haven't figured anything out but you're not letting it get to you, not really. We're kind of the antithesis to spitfire, aren't we?"

"I guess we are," Stan replied. "I still think you could be anything you want, by the way."

Kenny reached out and kissed Stan's cheek gently, the touch of his lips on his skin warming Stan instantly from his toes to his head. Pulling away, he looked back up at the moon, at the meteorites trailing across blue wonder.

"You know, I've never told anyone this, but I'm going to let you in on a little secret," he said.

Stan scooted closer, intrigued.

"Oh?"

"You're right, dude. I don't just want to be a mechanic, even though I think it's a pretty fucking honorable profession," Kenny said. "If it were up to me, I'd be a writer."

"What? Really?" Stan asked, shocked. He'd never known for one second that Kenny harbored such an aspiration. "You like to write?"

"Dude, I love to write. I try to write every day, actually."

"What kind of stuff?"

Kenny shrugged, standing. He brushed the snow off of his clothes and righted his hood. For a moment, Stan could only stare at him wistfully; the moon and stars at his back and bathing him in glacial light.

"Anything, really. My thoughts, observations, little stories."

"Wow, can I read some of it?" Stan asked, standing as well. He shivered a little when a raw wind passed through, ruffling his hair and making him wince.

"Come here," Kenny said, pulling him into a hug. Without warning, he kissed Stan's neck softly; warm lips lingering and fighting some of the chill.

Stan closed his eyes and sank into Kenny's arms, all of his senses becoming arrested by his scent and presence; spicy cologne, cigarettes, clean, cold air, whiskey. He always seemed to exude so much warmth, he didn't know how it was even possible. Sighing, he wound his fingers through Kenny's hair and this time he kissed his lips first, hands shaking a little as his mouth opened. They kissed as tides of celestial bodies washed over them, frozen snow beneath their feet and frigid winds tearing through their clothes.

They were both panting when they pulled away, and Stan bit at his swollen bottom lip, hardly believing what was happening.

"I'll let you read some of my stuff sometime, by the way," Kenny murmured, pressing one last, chaste kiss against Stan's mouth. "Okay?"

Stan nodded his head, still feeling a little dazed.

Smiling, Kenny reached down and took Stan's hand, pulling him back toward civilization. Almost feeling like he was in a trance, Stan followed, relishing the tiny pulse radiating through his lips and reminding him of what just happened.

"We better get back. If Kyle wakes up and sees that we aren't there he'll freak the fuck out," Kenny said, squeezing Stan's hand.

"Right, of course," Stan replied. "Then we'll have to sit through one of his lectures."

"Well, we can't have that." For a moment, the only sound was the wind and their boots tromping through the snow. "You know," Kenny said, breaking the silence. "You never told me what you want to be, dude. What do you want out of life?"

 _Moments like this,_ Stan thought, but of course he couldn't say something that lame out loud.

"To be happy," he said, squeezing Kenny's hand back, but just a little. "I just want to be happy."

* * *

He couldn't believe he'd told Stan all of that personal crap; he just couldn't believe it. About his memories, his inner-workings, Christ, even about wanting to be a writer! What the hell came over him?

Kenny watched Stan closely as they sat in Kyle's basement, music blasting and clouds of marijuana smoke drifting toward the ceiling. They'd checked in on Kyle as soon as they got back and he was still out for the count, the codeine in the cough syrup clearly having hit him like a ton of bricks. Now they were just chilling and shooting the shit, each of them off in their own worlds. Stan was taking a long drag on the joint, dreamy blue eyes focused on something that clearly wasn't in the room, but inside of his thoughts.

Knocking back a shot of gin, Kenny was attempting to drift, to become faded, but he was having a hard time. He prided himself on exuding a calm, unruffled exterior, the very picture of having his shit together, but more often than not he had no fucking clue what he was doing. Maybe that's why he felt compelled to write, who could say? At the very least, if he could get the thoughts out of his head and on the page he could attempt to make sense of them; most of the time.

But this sudden turn of events with Stan had come out of fucking left field. He'd known that something had shifted as soon as he found himself telling him private shit like the winter they had heat and wanting to write for a living. Sure, he still loved and adored his spitfire, but who knew that his feelings could shift toward Stan, too? He'd always loved him, almost like a brother, as a best friend, but now, now...

Sighing, Kenny accepted the joint and kicked himself for being so open, so unguarded. There was a reason he'd worn a hood over his face for the first 12 years of his life; for protection. Now he was putting his own dumb ass out in the open, leaving himself vulnerable to the slings and arrows. First he'd done it with admitting to Kyle that he loved him, and now he was doing it with Stan. He was truly a piece of work, an imbecile. Who was to say that he wouldn't just end up alone at the end of all of this? Life was continuing to move forward and they were growing up, but sometimes Kenny just wanted things to stand still, to never change. He'd finally found a little happiness but he knew it couldn't stay. Right?

"So, Sylvia Plath," Stan said, taking a swig of a beer. "When do I get to see your stuff?"

Kenny shrugged, unable to stop the grin sliding across his face. Sylvia Plath? Right, not even fucking close.

"Whenever you want, I guess," he replied, taking another hit.

"I don't have to worry about you sticking your head in an oven, do I?"

"Dude, weak. Although, I can see why Hemingway shot himself. What do you do when you run out of things to say?" Kenny asked, reaching out and taking Stan's beer from his hand. He took a long sip, wiping his hand across his mouth to clear away the moisture.

Stan grinned, accepting the joint when Kenny passed it back.

"I don't think we have to worry about that where you're concerned," he commented, cocking an eyebrow. "I'm pretty sure you'll never run out of shit to say."

"You make me sound like Kyle," Kenny said, rolling his eyes. "That kid has fucking something to say about everything."

"I guess it's just part of his charm," Stan replied, smiling fondly.

"Your charm stems from the fact that you're a little more reserved," Kenny said, polishing off the rest of the beer in the bottle. He was already pretty tipsy, but he was in that warm, comfortable place; slightly incoherent but not gone yet. "You keep some of yourself back. You don't feel the need to blurt out everything on your mind. I've always kind of liked that about you."

"Is that why you're falling for me?" Stan asked, grinning wolfishly.

Kenny groaned. Jesus, now he was in for it; loose lips sink ships and all that. This is what he got for wearing his heart on his sleeve, not to mention the fact that alcohol and weed always loosened his tongue. Although he couldn't use that as an excuse in this instance; he'd been stone-cold sober when he'd told Stan he was falling for him.

"Just because I like you doesn't mean I won't kick your ass, Stan," he said, a warning note creeping into his tone.

"Oh, lighten up, dude. Who's to say I'm not falling for you, too?" Stan smiled widely, his cheeks carnation pink from the booze. At least that's what Kenny assumed.

"Wait, what?" Kenny asked, taken aback and heart thudding in his chest.

"Recite some of your writing for me, huh?" Stan asked, leaning forward and taking another hit. "Please?"

Kenny looked around for the gin bottle, fully prepared to take another shot. He was going to need more alcohol to deal with Stan's rapid shifts; he always got like this when he was inebriated. Wincing a little, he relished the fire flowing down his throat and settling in his stomach.

"Fine," he replied, setting the bottle aside. "Let me see. Oh! Okay, here we go," he said, deciding to fuck with Stan just a little. Taking a deep breath, he began to recite:

 _A funny old bird is a pelican.  
His beak can hold more than his belican.  
Food for a week  
He can hold in his beak,  
But I don't know how the helican*._

Stan was quiet for a moment, seemingly mulling over the words. Then, he laughed and nodded, bringing the joint to his lips again.

"That was great, dude. I can't believe you wrote that; it was really clever."

Kenny rolled his eyes, deciding to ignore the no doubt unintentional slight.

"I didn't write that, Stan; I was messing with you." He knocked back some more gin. "You know, people talk shit about limericks but I think they're rather charming."

"Like me?" Stan grinned, pointing at himself.

"Knock it off, Stan," Kenny said.

"Fine, fine. Quit screwing around, Kenny, and actually read something for me that _you_ wrote. Now I'm dying of curiosity."

Kenny shook his head.

"Nah, I'm not ready for that. Besides, I have my own curiosities to consider."

"What do you mean?"

Slowly, Kenny started crawling over to Stan, shifting bottles and a smoking ashtray out of his way, his knees grinding bits of chips and debris into the carpet. Wincing, he looked down.

"Kyle isn't going to like that, but whatever. Fuck it." Continuing on, he reached over and took the blunt out of Stan's hand and set it aside, grinning a little at the look of surprise on his flushed face.

"Kenny, what are you doing?"

"This," Kenny replied. Leaning forward, he planted his lips on Stan's mouth and kissed him deeply, enjoying his clean scent: fabric softener, mint, tinges of weed and booze, all culminating and making him feel so much looser. Feeling encouraged by Stan's eager response, he started pushing him back until he was lying on the floor, Kenny on top of him. Stan licked a few lingering drops of gin off of Kenny's mouth and smiled slowly.

"Someone's feeling bold."

"I'm always bold," Kenny replied, kissing down over his chin, his jaw, along his throat; his fingers nimbly unbuttoning Stan's shirt all the while. Opening it, he dragged his tongue along his chest and his abdomen, his hands drifting to the button on his jeans. Deftly, he undid them and started slowly pulling down the zipper, his lips still lingering on Stan's lower belly.

Breathing heavily, Stan clenched his hands on Kenny's arms, his fingers tracing over the tattoos winding around his flesh.

"Dude, this is happening a little fast," he managed to say.

"Do you want to stop?" Kenny asked, raising an eyebrow, his hands still sliding Stan's jeans down.

"Well, no, I don't think so, but -"

"So, just go with it, dude. Okay?" Kenny smiled, easing Stan's boxers down now, his eyes resting on his swiftly hardening cock. "Besides, I think you're just as ready for this as I am, what do you think?"

Stan looked away, bashful and flushing an even deeper shade of red; blue eyes dazed from booze, weed, and arousal. Kenny grinned; sometimes being exceedingly forthright had its advantages. He knew when to go for something and when he should hold himself back; this was not one of those times, clearly.

He lapped at the soft, sensitive skin of Stan's pubis, his tongue getting closer and closer to its ultimate destination, until he couldn't resist and he was licking along the shaft of Stan's cock. Stan groaned, his hands tightening on Kenny's arms.

"You like that?" Kenny asked, voice becoming husky as his own heady arousal burned through his blood. There was just something about the immediate reaction that turned him on more; the quickening of Stan's breath, his hands digging in, the tension building in his muscles.

He teased him for a few seconds more, relishing in how he writhed beneath his touch, and then he decided to go for it; his open mouth sinking completely over Stan's hard cock, taking him in inch by inch. Stan gasped and let go of Kenny's arms, his fingers winding through his hair and pulling him closer. The warm flavor of Stan's skin set Kenny's heart to racing, his musky scent pulling him in until he almost felt lost. Relaxing his throat, he almost gagged when he felt Stan's cock brushing the back of his mouth, but he controlled himself; drawing back and licking his tongue along the underside. Stan's fingers were clenching harder in his hair, but this intensity only served to encourage Kenny further.

The music continued to fill the room as Kenny went down on Stan, his pace quickening and falling away; the tiny sucking sounds filling his ears along with the bass and making his own erection swell. At one point, Stan began lifting his hips and aided in fucking Kenny's face until he had to dig his fingers into Stan's thighs, reminding him that he was the one setting the pace.

"Just relax," Kenny murmured, saliva drifting over his lips as he took Stan into his mouth again. Drawing back, he sped up his pace until Stan's breathy pants were overriding the sounds of the music and everything else.

"I can't...I'm going to..." Stan managed to eke out, his strong hands gripping Kenny's head and urging him on.

Kenny just grunted and continued on his relentless rhythm, practically feeling the tension building up inside of Stan, every part of his being encouraging him to fall over the edge and just _let go_. Let go of everything; the future, the present, everyday worries. Just sink into the sensation and allow himself the feeling of pure, wild abandon. Finally, Stan reached his end and he was unraveling, the sensation completely uncoiling and reaching its ceiling; his hips thrusting upward as he came in Kenny's eager mouth. Kenny continued to suck and held him tightly, the flavor of Stan's arousal washing over his tongue and sliding down his throat. He swallowed it all and continued to hold on even after Stan had stopped, his body spent and nearly boneless as he lay on the floor; soft gasps spilling from his throat and mixing with the music still playing.

Kenny eased off of Stan and wiped his mouth, feeling relaxed but so accomplished. He grinned and sat up, studying Stan and the flush that had risen in the skin all over his body; heated scarlet while Stan tried to come back to earth.

"So, what'd you think?" He asked, relishing in the flavors of come and gin mixing; little notes of weed thrown in just for good measure.

"That was," Stan gasped, breaths still coming fast, "fucking _amazing_. Jesus, dude. Why the fuck did we wait so long to try this?"

"Because we're idiots," Kenny replied, blushing a little to know his fellatio skills were on point.

Stan managed to sit up, his chest still heaving.

"What can I do for you?" He asked, blue eyes eager; almost appearing like an enthusiastic puppy that just wanted to please his master.

"Er, what do you mean?" Kenny asked, taken aback at Stan's question. He hadn't really expected anything in return.

"I mean, you just made me feel like my body was fucking coming apart. I want to make you feel the same way."

Kenny shrugged and looked around for the bottle of gin. Taking a swig, he kind of regretted it; the taste of Stan being washed away in its caustic stream.

"What are you willing to do, is the better question," he said, his eyes trailing over Stan's opened shirt; his untarnished skin so pretty in the muted lighting of the basement.

"Well," Stan said, glancing down. "I've always been curious about..."

"About?" Kenny drawled when Stan seemed too reluctant to continue. "Just spit it out, dude."

"Well, you could, I don't know," he blushed. "Here, why don't I just -"

He got on his knees and turned, glancing over his shoulder. Kenny sucked in a breath at the implications.

"Are you for real, Stan?"

Stan nodded a little, looking down at the floor again.

"Only if you want to, of course."

Kenny drew closer, his hand resting on Stan's heated back and stroking him softly. Leaning forward, he brushed a kiss on the back of Stan's neck, enjoying the way the skin quivered a little.

"Of course I want to," he murmured, his lips right next to Stan's ear. "Hold on."

Reaching over to his bag, Kenny produced the bottle of lube and held it up for Stan to see.

"Are you sure?" He asked, flipping it open.

Stan just nodded, lifting himself a little; subliminally announcing his readiness to a practically salivating Kenny.

"Okay," Kenny replied, squeezing the lube onto his fingers. Gently, he eased his hand over Stan's ass, almost surprised at the waves of heat pouring off of him. After a moment, he settled his slicked fingers against Stan and pressed in slowly, eliciting a small sound from Stan's mouth.

"Shh," Kenny murmured, easing in gently and preparing him. "This is your first time, right?"

"Yeah," Stan replied, voice trembling a little as he gave into the sensation of being filled.

"It'll be okay. Just relax," Kenny smiled, continuing to open him up. After a few minutes, he slid a second finger in and Stan jerked a little. Settling his hand on his hip, he steadied him; squeezing a little.

"Ready?" He asked, pulling his fingers out slowly.

Nodding, Stan reached back and pecked Kenny's lips, his eyes radiating clear trust. Turning away, he slid onto his forearms and almost seemed to be offering himself, causing Kenny's heart to go into overdrive. Wanting to savor the moment, the overwhelming anticipation, Kenny slowly unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, easing them down over his hips along with his boxers. Sliding his still-moistened hand over his cock, he pumped himself a little until he was just as slick and ready as Stan. Taking a deep breath, he placed one hand on Stan's hip as he slid along his entrance, and finally, he began to push in, practically gasping as he felt his tight heat for the first time. Taking care not to go too quickly, he sank into Stan slowly, almost feeling like he was passing into a mesmerizing oblivion. For a second he almost thought he was going to lose his mind, but he steadied himself.

"I don't know how long I'm going to last," Kenny said, fully inside now and almost trembling because it felt so fucking good. "You're so fucking tight."

Stan grunted at the sensation of being filled, moaning deeply in his throat as Kenny began to thrust.

"Are you okay?" Kenny asked, hands clenched around Stan's hips as he slid out just a fraction; having to catch his breath.

"Y-yes," Stan moaned. "Just keep going."

"Don't have to tell me twice," Kenny breathed, sliding into him again. He hadn't been kidding when he'd said he wouldn't be able to last, already feeling that beautiful friction and tightness building up in his belly and cock. Picking up the pace, he fucked Stan as gently as he could when really he wanted to just succumb and pound into him.

Pushing back, Stan inadvertently clenched around Kenny which practically sent him over the edge, but he became still; wanting to ride the delicious tide rising within him.

"God, you feel good," Kenny said, hardly able to believe it. Stan felt almost as amazing as Kyle; how the fuck could that be?

"Then just let go," Stan said, voice almost faint as he pushed back against Kenny again. "I know you want to, and it isn't like we can't do this again."

This was enough encouragement for Kenny to start thrusting faster, every movement driving him closer and closer to the zenith of ecstasy; saliva spilling from the corner of his mouth. Throwing his head back, he drove into Stan's heat one last time, grunting as he fell over the chasm and into the warm darkness; his come filling up a whimpering, shaking Stan. When he came back around to himself, his head clearing at least a little, he could hear Zeppelin playing on Stan's iPod; strains of Going to California getting lost among their bevy of pants and sighs.

"Jesus, how could tomorrow ever follow today?" He mused, leaning forward and dropping a kiss on Stan's back.

"Are you really quoting song lyrics while you're still inside of me?" Stan asked, smirking as he glanced over his shoulder.

"I sure as hell am," Kenny replied, grinning. "Doesn't it just feel right? Doesn't all of this just feel so fucking right?"

* * *

Afterward, Kenny and Stan cleaned up a little and decided to eat leftover pancakes while sharing the remainder of the gin; both of them still coasting on the high of inebriation and each other. They didn't really need to discuss the situation, only knowing that something had begun, that maybe, just maybe, they were finally stepping into the future; just a little. In a way, it almost felt like they'd left just a little piece of their childhood behind, but they didn't mind; if anything, they were feeling a tentative readiness.

"Everything's going to be okay, huh?" Stan asked, chewing on a bit of pancake and resting his head against Kenny's shoulder.

"I'd like to think so," Kenny replied, kissing his temple softly. "As long as we have each other, as lame as that sounds."

"I don't think it's lame at all," a voice broke in behind them, causing Kenny and Stan to start and sit up. Looking back, Kyle was standing behind them, face still flushed with sickness but a knowing smile flitting across his lips. Coming forward, he plopped on the couch next to Kenny and reached for some of his pancake.

"Are you two having fun?" He asked, green eyes lit from within and looking just a little too knowledgeable. Taking dainty bites, he chewed on the pancake like a little squirrel, watching them both closely.

Kenny and Stan glanced at each other, Kenny deciding to take the reins.

"Yeah, we've been having a pretty good time," he said, twirling a lock of Kyle's hair around his finger. "How about you? Are you feeling any better?"

Kyle shrugged.

"I guess. That shit knocked me out, though."

"You should've heard yourself, dude," Stan snickered, taking a drink of gin; blue eyes bleary and looking very sleepy. "You thought we were in Marie Antoinette's bedroom or something."

Kyle covered his face with his hands and sighed.

"That stuff always fucks with my head," he replied, nuzzling closer into Kenny's side.

"Yeah, you put on quite a show," Kenny commented, swallowing the last of his leftover pancake; maple syrup mingling with Stan's flavors on his tongue.

"I could say the same thing about you two," Kyle said, trying to assume a casual air. "Are there any pancakes left?"

Kenny pulled away, studying the redhead as he felt a flush rising up his throat.

"No, they're all gone. Also, what the fuck are you talking about?"

Kyle smiled that knowing smile again, eyes snapping with more mischief.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about."

"You-you saw that?" Stan stuttered, sitting forward.

"The whole thing," Kyle nodded. "I'm jealous, though, Kenny. You never recite song lyrics when you're done fucking me. I feel left out."

Kenny groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"You've really got to knock off this whole spying on us thing, dude. It's kind of creepy."

"I think it's hot," Kyle replied, shrugging again. "Besides, I'm glad you two got together. More love is always a good thing, right?"

Stan sighed and sat back, brushing a hand through his hair.

"I suppose, but still -"

"Nah, he's right," Kenny interjected, hugging both of them close. "More love is definitely a good thing, and I couldn't love you two fuckers more."

"More romantic words were never spoken," Kyle piped up, giggling a little.

"Baby, you love it," Kenny smiled.

Stan leaned his head on Kenny's shoulder again, smiling softly.

"You guys are definitely right; the world can always use more love."

They sat like that for awhile, drifting on the late night hour, the music, just everything; all of them flitting through their own musings, arms wrapped around one another. Finally, Kenny glanced over and saw that Kyle was sleeping peacefully, his face pressed into his side and his hands curled in Kenny's shirt. Turning his head, he looked at Stan and saw that he too was asleep, cheek resting softly against Kenny's upper arm.

 _I'm always the last man standing,_ he thought, sighing a little. He listened for a moment, his ears perking up at the sound of James Taylor wafting through the hushed basement. Smiling, he reached down and plucked up a blanket from the floor. Snapping it open, he laid it across all three of them and pulled Stan and Kyle just a little closer, kissing the tops of their heads. Settling back, he closed his eyes and reveled in this embarrassment of riches; his Stan and his Kyle cuddled up beside him on a chilly autumn night.

 _The world can always use more love,_ he thought, his mind beginning to fade into sleep. _And I'm surrounded by it. All the time._


End file.
